Tarnished
by the lurker
Summary: After a particularly upsetting loss, Doc attempts to find comfort in a bottle, which almost results in the death of one of his patients. As word of his lapse gets around town, he finds himself on the outside looking in, and he decides to call it quits.
1. Chapter 1

GUNSMOKE

"Tarnished"

Festus shrugged his heavy coat on, and tugged his hat down over his left eye with a sharp yank of his hand. He opened the door to the jail and stepped outside onto the quiet street, softly closing the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took in a deep breath of crisp air. He looked up the snow-covered street, and then down the other way, but few people were out so early on a cold morning. His eyes shifted across the street to the doors of the Long Branch, and he wondered if Miss Kitty had a pot of coffee on yet. He pressed down further into his coat as he stepped off the boardwalk, but the sounds of an oncoming horse and buggy stopped him short.

He recognized Doc Adams and waved to him. "Doc! Hey Doc...where're ya goin'?"

The doctor waved back, but didn't so much as slow down. Haggen watched as the buggy sped past him down Front Street, heading north out of town, leaving its unmistakable tracks in the soft snow.

Festus shook his head to himself. "Wull if that don't jes' beat all...ornery ol' scudder..."

Haggen crossed the street, and tried the tall doors of the Long Branch. Finding them unlocked, he opened one, and walked in. Sam was setting up the bar, and Kitty Russell was balancing a ledger at a table; Festus smiled when he spotted the pot of coffee next to her. He pulled the hat off his head as he walked over.

"Mornin' Miss Kitty," he looked back at the bartender, "Sam..."

"Mornin' Festus," Sam acknowledged.

Kitty smiled at the deputy. "Good morning, Festus. Have a seat."

Haggen nodded, "Much obliged, Miss Kitty." He looked at her coffee cup and the pot, and took in a large sniff of the aroma. "Coffee sure smells good..."

Kitty grinned at the conspicuous hint. "Sam...can you bring Festus a cup?"

Smiling widely the bartender responded, "Sure thing, Miss Kitty."

Sam set a cup in front of Haggen, unsuccessfully trying to cover his amusement. Apparently oblivious to the joke, Festus poured himself a cup of the dark liquid and took a long sip.

"Now that there is the bestest coffee I ever drunk, Miss Kitty..." He grinned at her, "'Ceptin' fer my own, of course..."

Kitty laughed. "I would have thought that this was just a tad on the weak side for you, Festus."

"Wull...it is a mite shy on stoutness next ta Haggen-style coffee, but I'm thankful ta have some with ya anyways..." He took another long sip. "Coffee jes' hits the spot on a cold mornin' like this, don't it?"

"It sure does, Festus."

"'Specially on a mornin' when a-ornery ol' sawbones almost run me off the street with his buggy..."

"What are you talkin' about, Festus?"

"Doc almost run me over jes' now, out on Front Street." Haggen shook his head. "I don't know whar he wuz a-goin' in such a dag-blamed hurry at this hour..." He scrunched up an eyeball at her. "He weren't goin' fishin' ner nothin' wuz he?"

"Fishin' in this cold weather? Festus, honestly..." Kitty pat his arm lightly. "Ed Waters came lookin' for Doc while he was in here havin' some coffee with me."

"Ed Waters? Ain't his wife Lucy about to have a youngun?"

"You bet she is..." Kitty took a sip of coffee, her voice suddenly colored with concern, "I sure hope everything turns out all right."

Haggen grinned. "Why Miss Kitty, havin' younguns is the most naturalest thang they is."

"Doc's been pretty worried about Lucy. She's lost three other ones about halfway through her time, ya know."

"That's a derned shame, Miss Kitty. Them two's real sweet on havin' a whole parcel of kids."

Kitty took a contemplative sip from her coffee. "I just hope it'll be okay... Ed was a nervous wreck when he was in here. I don't know how he'd take it if somethin' happened."

"Don'tchu worry none Miss Kitty, ol' Doc'll see to it. Ain't nobody better'n him at bringing younguns inta the world."

* * *

Doc placed another cool cloth on the woman's brow, his voice low and soft, "Easy now, Lucy. You just try and breathe like I showed ya."

The woman panted in short breaths, gritting her teeth. "It...hurts...so...bad, Doc..."

He brushed a gentle hand over her forehead. "I know it does. But I want you to concentrate on that little baby yer gonna bring into the world, Lucy. You just think on that, and when I tell ya, I want you to start pushin'..." Adams moved to the foot of the bed, and lifted the covers up over her knees. He began rolling his sleeves up over his elbows. "Now I want you to relax fer me; I'm gonna check and see how far along ya are."

Lucy whimpered in discomfort as Adams felt for the baby's crown. He placed a gentle hand on her tummy, pressing down slightly as he continued his examination. She writhed in pain, crying out, and Doc frowned.

"D-doc...what's...wrong...with...me?"

Adams carefully pulled his hand free, and covered her once again with the bedclothes. "There's nothing for you to worry about, Lucy." He walked over to the basin with water and began washing his hands. "You just try and stay calm, and keep breathing the way I taught ya..."

He dried his hands with a towel, and walked back over to the bed. He changed the compress on her head and ran a caring hand through her hair. Lucy could see the worry in his pale blue eyes, and she felt a cold fear begin to spread over her chest.

"D-don't...let...me...lose...this...one, Doc...p-please..."

He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his comforting hands on her shoulders. "Shhhh, I want you to just stay calm, and not worry." He pat her lightly, then stood. "I'm gonna have a quick word with Ed, and I'll be right back."

Adams walked out into the main room of the house, closing the bedroom door behind him. Ed Waters was pacing in the middle of the floor when he heard the door. He turned to see Doc's face, and he swallowed hard. He walked over to Adams, grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Calm down, Ed."

"Don't tell me ta calm down, Doc, just tell me what's wrong."

"It's gonna be a little more complicated than we thought." The homesteader stared hard into Doc's eyes, and the physician continued, "Lucy's carryin' twins--"

"--Twins?"

"Yes, but one of them is breached and tangled up a little."

"That why Lucy's in so much pain?"

Adams nodded. "I'm gonna need some help with the delivery, Ed, so I want you to ride back into town and get Kitty Russell fer me. Will ya do that?"

Ed swallowed hard, his voice betraying his fear, "I'll git her, Doc. But you gotta promise me ain't nothin' gonna happen to Lucy or the twins..."

Adams gently patted the man's arm. "I'll do the best I can, Ed."

Waters gripped Adams hard by the collar of his shirt. "You gotta promise me, Doc..."

"Take it easy, Ed." Doc loosened the large, rough hands around his neck. "I need you to fetch Kitty. Now get goin'..."

Adams watched as the rattled man grabbed his hat and coat and stepped out the front door. Doc let out the breath of air he was holding against the slight burning in his stomach; he wasn't at all sure he could save Lucy, much less the two children inside of her. Swiping a worried hand across his mustache and chin, Doc walked back into the bedroom, unsure of any influence his medical skill would have against the will of the Almighty.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy cried out in pain, and Kitty dabbed a cool cloth over her forehead as Doc once again tried to ease out the first baby.

Kitty's voice was soft, but concerned, "Doc?"

He shook his head, attempting to get a better grip. "First one's breached, Kitty. Breached and tangled up with the other one..."

Lucy screamed sharply, causing Doc to ease his hands back out of the womb. He wiped his hands on a towel, and let out a long sigh of air. He picked up his stethoscope, and placed it first near Lucy's heart, listening intently, then along different areas of her stomach. The sting in his eyes as he looked up at Lucy told her more than words could have, and a thick sob escaped her lips.

"No...Doc..."

Kitty frowned at him as he angrily tossed the stethoscope back into his bag. "Doc?"

He turned his back to her, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets. Kitty gently set Lucy's head on the pillow, and walked over to Adams, her voice just more than a whisper.

"Doc?"

He shook his head in despair. "I've lost both babies, Kitty. Lucy's gonna have to deliver two still-borns."

"Oh, Doc..." Tears began to well up in his eyes, and Kitty brushed a reassuring hand over the back of his head. "This wasn't your fault."

He jerked his head away from her comfort, and snapped, "Then whose fault was it?"

His pale eyes were lit with the agony of self-recrimination as they pierced Kitty's crystal blue ones, and she had to look away. Without another word, Adams walked over to the bed, carefully sitting on its edge. He gently brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of Lucy's face.

The sorrow in her timbre penetrated his soft heart. "I ain't gonna have no babies, am I, Doc?"

He took her hands in his. "I'm afraid not, Lucy." He swallowed hard, and looked down at their hands momentarily, then back into her saddened eyes. "But I need you to help me deliver them."

Fresh tears flushed down her face as the reality of it set in. "I can't, Doc. I can't go through this...not fer babies that's already dead! I can't..."

Lucy began to sob uncontrollably, and Adams gently took her into his arms, holding her for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Lucy, I truly am, but we have to do this, or you'll die."

"I don't care!"

He lifted her chin slightly. "Well I do..." Gently he lowered her back to her pillows and softly caressed her face. "Now I need you to help me. Will you at least try?"

She shook her head, crying in defeat, "I can't Doc, I just can't..."

Doc pat her arm softly, stood and turned to Kitty. "I need you to sterilize some instruments for me."

"Doc?"

"If she's not gonna push, I have to go in and take them, otherwise we'll lose her too."

"The poor thing..." Kitty headed toward the door. "You want me to tell Ed?"

Doc shook his head. "No. Let's wait until it's over, then I'll talk to him."

Adams handed Kitty the instruments he wanted cleansed, and then he prepared a mask with ether. He sat down with Lucy, and held the mask over her face with one hand, while gently stroking her hair with the other.

"I want you to take slow, deep breaths fer me, Lucy, and when you wake up, it'll all be over."

Tears continued to run down her cheeks as she breathed in the fumes, and Doc once again felt the familiar burning in his stomach. Whether due to a lack of medical knowledge in the area of breached births or perhaps just in his own ability, he had failed to deliver two babies into the arms of loving parents. And no amount of comfort, be it from the tenderness of a friend, or the depths of a bottle, would be able to soothe the guilt seated at the core of his soul.

* * *

Kitty looked at the two small outlines under the blanket, and shivered. She glanced over at Doc, who was rolling down his sleeves, and the strident anguish on his face concerned her. She walked over to him and tenderly straightened his collar, buttoned up his shirt, and tied his tie. He said nothing, but as she looked into the depths of his soft eyes, she saw that words were unnecessary. She brushed back the unruly curls stuck to his forehead from perspiration, and then helped him into his suit jacket. In turn, he wrapped her in her cloak, and reached for his hat and medical bag. He looked back at Lucy once more, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Kitty's voice was soft, delicate, "Is she going to be all right?"

"As long as she stays put fer a few weeks and doesn't open up that incision I had to make in her belly." He looked toward the door and let out a long sigh of air. "I don't think Ed's gonna handle this too well. They've tried so hard to have a family, and fer Lucy to get this far only to lose those babies..." He shook his head in despair, looking down at the floor. "I just don't know that Ed can take this."

Kitty brushed his shoulder. "You saved Lucy, Doc..." When he continued to study the floor, Kitty gently stroked the back of his head. "You can't blame yourself."

He looked up sharply. "Lucy's babies were my responsibility. There ain't nobody else to blame."

Before Kitty could refute the statement, Doc stalked out of the room, almost bumping into Ed Waters who was still pacing the length of the living room floor.

"Doc? Doc...what's took so long? I ain't heared no babies a-cryin'..."

Adams set his medical bag and hat on a nearby chair, and looked the man in the eyes. "Ed, I'm afraid things didn't turn out so well--"

Waters grasped Adams tightly by the collar, pulling him roughly into himself. "--Whaddya mean it ain't turned out well?"

"Calm down, Ed, and--"

"--Don't tell me ta calm down. Where're my babies?"

"Ed, I'm awful sorry, but both of them were still-borns."

Waters pulled tighter on Doc's shirt. "Still-born? Yer sayin' my babies is dead?" His distraught voice landed in the pit of Doc's belly. "Lucy? What about Lucy?"

"I had to perform surgery to save her, but she'll be fine--"

"--You cut her open?"

Kitty stepped into the room then. "Ed, take it easy. Doc didn't have a choice..."

"You stay out of this, Miss Russell." He spat into Adams' face. "You cut open my wife and killed my babies...you ain't no doctor, you're a butcher!"

He slugged Doc hard in the face, sending the smaller man reeling backward into the wall, blood gushing from a gash above his eye.

Kitty screamed, "Ed, no!"

But Ed Waters was no longer rational. He grabbed Doc again, and smashed his fist into his head, knocking the doctor to the floor. Kitty tried to grab Ed from behind, but she wasn't strong enough to hold him.

"Ed, stop!"

Waters shrugged her off, and picked Adams up by the front of his shirt, hoisting him to his feet. He was about to hit Doc again when Lucy cried out Ed's name. He stopped frozen in mid-motion, and then menacingly grabbed Adams by the neck.

"I oughta kill you fer what you done."

Doc gripped the man's wrists, his voice tight with stress, "Ed...go see to Lucy."

Waters roughly cast Adams aside, and walked quickly into the bedroom. Doc sagged against the wall, exhausted. Kitty put a protective arm around his shoulders.

"Doc?"

He waved her off. "I'm fine."

She sat him in a chair, and wet a cloth in the kitchen basin. As gently as she could, Kitty wiped the blood from his face, and cleaned the cut around his eye, and another on his cheek. But after allowing only the basic care to be dispensed, he pushed her hand away.

"Let's go, Kitty," he gruffly ordered.

"But Doc--"

He pierced her eyes with his own. "--Please, let's just go."

He sounded shaken to the core, so she nodded, acquiescing, "Okay, we'll go."

Kitty picked up his medical bag, put his hat on his head, and helped him into his heavy overcoat. The cold assaulted them as she opened the door, the frigid air of night long since having settled like a cloak across the snow-blanketed prairie. Kitty helped Doc into the buggy, set his bag on the floor, and then reached for the blankets he always kept in the back. She covered him with one of them, and noted that he was so crestfallen, he didn't even bother to feign annoyance. She settled in next to him, and picked up the reins, slapping them softly against the rear of the horse. They rode along in dejected silence for some time, until Kitty could stand it no longer.

"He didn't mean it, Doc. Ed was upset, and he just didn't mean what he said."

"Don't matter if he did. He was right."

"He was _not_ right, and don't you say that to me again."

Unable to muster the energy to meet her fiery mien, Doc looked away, but Kitty could feel his anguished spirit shattering. She reached over and removed his hat, pulled his head to her shoulder and softly brushed her fingers through his hair. He took in an unsteady breath, but instead of air, guilt and resignation gripped his heart. His shaky voice penetrated the muffled sound of horse hooves plodding along in the snow-covered earth.

"I'm a doctor; I should have been able to do something." He swallowed hard. "They were just innocent little new-borns..."

The shame and desolation in his voice made her heart ache. "You did everything you could, Doc, everything."

"It wasn't enough," he uttered, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. His voice turned to a whisper, "By God, it just wasn't enough."

Her hand brushed over his neck and down his back, rubbing him with a strong, soothing motion. After awhile, she felt his weight press against her, and knew he had drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Kitty settled her hand around his neck, and placed an affectionate kiss on his forehead. She looked at the deep cut above his swollen eye, and shook her head; the sooner she got him back to Dodge, the better.

She slapped the reins in her right hand against the horse's flesh. "Come on, Popcorn, get a move on, let's get him home to bed."


	3. Chapter 3

Kitty tucked the covers tightly around him, and he silently glared at her for the effort. Matt bent over, and gently placed a cloth filled with ice chips on Doc's swollen eye, only to have Adams shove his hand away.

"Doc, that eye looks terrible," Matt scolded, "you need something to take down the swelling."

"I know what I need," Adams growled, "and it ain't a public servant practicin' medicine on me."

Straightening up to his full height, Matt put his hands on his hips. "That's enough out of you for one night, doctor. You need to get some sleep."

"What I need, Mr. Marshal, is a good, stiff drink. _That's_ what I need." He shoved the bedcovers aside, and started to get up. "And I'm gonna get one too..."

Kitty placed her hands on his shoulders, stopping him. "Oh no you don't." She took the ice from Matt's hand, and placed it none too gingerly on Doc's eye, causing him to grimace. "You keep that on there." She pushed him back down, and covered him with the blankets. "And you stay in bed. I'll get you a shot of whiskey."

"I don't want a shot," he bellowed, "I want the bottle!"

"Well you're gettin' a shot!"

Kitty disappeared through the door to his office and after a moment, returned with a glass of whiskey. "Here, you grumpy ol' bear..."

He took the glass and downed the contents, holding it out for her. "Gimme another one."

"Doc--"

"--I mean it." When she didn't move, he angrily pushed out of bed, tossing the ice on the bedside table. "I intend to get good and drunk, and neither one of you is going to stop me."

They silently followed him as he stalked into the office, carrying his empty glass. Kitty and Matt looked on as he poured a shot, downed it, and chased it quickly with another.

"Oh Matt, he's takin' this awful hard."

The tall lawman shrugged. "He's bein' pretty ornery all right..."

She looked at Dillon with wet eyes. "It's only because he's so hurt."

Matt swallowed hard. "I know that." He looked over at the old man who was so dear to him, and shook his head. "There's not a lot anyone can do when Doc gets like this, and you know it. The weight of his responsibility just gets to him sometimes."

Kitty glanced at Adams and felt an irrational sense of fear wash through her; she grabbed Dillon's arm with surprising intensity. "Please Matt, make him stop..."

Dillon sighed, but walked over to the feisty doctor, placing his hand over the empty shot glass. Adams looked up, glaring hotly.

"What do you think yer doin'?"

"Stoppin' you from doin' something you'll regret."

"You're a little late fer stoppin' regrets this evening, I already got a few. Two to be exact..." Adams pulled the glass out from under Matt's hand, and picking up the bottle, he headed for the bedroom. Stopping at the door, he turned to face both of them. "I'm goin' in here, and I'm drinkin' this bottle." His eyes narrowed. "And I'm doin' it alone!"

He slammed the door for emphasis, causing Kitty to shudder.

Matt sighed heavily. "Well, that's that..."

Kitty sat down in Doc's desk chair. "I'm not going to leave him like this, Matt."

"He's not going to let you in there..."

"I don't care."

Matt lovingly ran his fingers over her neck, tracing down her shoulders and back. "You want me to stay with you?"

She smiled, but shook her head. "You don't need to. I just want to be sure he stays put."

"He's gonna be in a pretty sorry state by morning from all that whiskey, ya know."

"That's another reason I think I should stay, Matt. He might need some help."

Dillon's eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh, he's gonna need help all right. I doubt he'll even be able to hold a basin for himself when all that whiskey comes back up."

"Good night, Matt," she said in a caustic voice.

Grinning he responded, "Good night, Kitty." He walked to the door, and stopped at the threshold. "If you need something, Festus and I will both be at the office."

Her timbre held a tinge of sarcasm, "Yeah, thanks..."

Smiling, Matt closed the door, confident that Doc's impending hangover would be the worst of it.


	4. Chapter 4

The pounding on the door of the office startled her from an exhausted sleep.

"Doc! Doc Adams, open up! Doc!"

Kitty roused herself from the desk chair and unlocked the door to find Ed Waters standing there shivering, his wife Lucy cradled in his arms. Kitty opened the door wide enough for him to come in, then quickly closed it, stopping the blast of cold air.

"Ed! What happened?"

"Lucy done tore out them stitches Doc took in her. She's bleedin' bad from her belly..."

"Put her on the table, I'll get Doc."

Kitty entered the bedroom without knocking, and quickly closed the door behind her. The lantern on the table was still lit, and next to it stood the empty bottle of whiskey. She sat on the edge of the bed and shook Doc's shoulders.

"Doc! Doc, wake up!" The old physician didn't even stir, so Kitty shook him harder. "Doc, you've gotta wake up!" He groaned, and she patted his face lightly. "Come on, Doc..."

A drunken smile lit his lips as he playfully swatted her hand away from his cheek. "Kitty? What're ya doin' that fer?"

"Oh Doc, you're still drunk."

He chuckled with intoxication. "'Course I'm drunk...that wuz the whole point o' drinkin' a bottle of whiskey..."

She shook him harder. "Doc, this isn't funny. Ed Waters brought Lucy in and she's bleedin' somethin' bad from her belly. You've gotta shake this off, now."

Kitty's words bounced around inside his muddled head, but it was impossible for him to focus on anything through the alcoholic haze pervading his mind.

His voice was foggy, "Lucy Waters..."

Kitty slapped him hard on his uncut cheek. "Damnit, Doc! Lucy's going to bleed to death if you don't help her. Can you understand me?" She slapped him again. "Doc!"

The third time her open palm connected with his face, he grabbed her hand, stopping her from a fourth. "That hurts, honey..."

Her voice belied barely controlled ire, "It's _supposed_ to." She stood, pacing. "I've gotta find a way to get you sobered up, and fast."

His timbre was chirpy, as if they were playing a game and it was his turn to respond, "Black coffee...icy water..."

In complete frustration, Kitty picked up the basin of cold water on his bedside table, and upended it on his face and bedclothes, eliciting a howl of surprise from him. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, and firmly patted his face trying to rouse him.

"Doc, snap out of it!"

Sobering slightly, he moaned in discomfort and put a hand over his stomach in misery.

"My belly ain't feelin' so good, honey."

"Yeah, I'll bet it's not."

Kitty put the basin under him just as he leaned over the side of the bed, heaving, but her anger with his self-indulgence made her less than sympathetic, overshadowing her affection for him. He groaned loudly, holding his head as he leaned back onto the bed, his neck feeling as if it might snap off should he try to move again. Kitty exhaled a long sigh of air: he was in no condition to help Lucy, nor was he going to be anytime soon. Unsuccessfully trying to keep her fury in control, she slammed the basin on the floor by his bed, and shook him roughly.

"Doc?" He nodded slightly, the pounding in his head making even such a small movement less than pleasant. "The basin's here on the floor." Her voice took on a hard, cold edge, "Don't miss."

He shivered from the damp bedclothes, and for a brief moment she felt a familiar urge to take care of him. But then her anger reasserted itself, and incensed, she stood, turning for the door.

His voice was soft and vulnerable as he called out to her, "Kitty?"

"What?" She responded acerbically.

"Where're you goin'?"

"_Somebody's_ got to help Lucy Waters."

Kitty stormed out of the bedroom, closing the door with far more force than necessary. Ed Waters looked up at her expectantly.

She struggled to keep her voice even, "I'm afraid Doc's in no shape to help anyone right now, Ed."

"Whaddya mean he ain't in no shape? I didn't beat on him that bad..."

Kitty couldn't meet his eyes. "He's sick." She swallowed and looked up at him. "I'll do what I can, but I'm going to need some help. Can you go over to the jail and get Matt and Festus?"

Ed nodded, and left the office quickly. Kitty examined Lucy's belly, and had to swallow down the paralyzing fear that was creeping up her throat as she stared at the blood seeping from the incision. Her hands shook with the weight of responsibility: if she didn't act quickly, Lucy would not survive. The sound of Adams retching in the bedroom filtered out to her then; and Kitty Russell felt nothing but disappointment, disgust and indignation. Doc Adams was not the infallible figure she had placed on a pedestal, but just a man, possessing the same weaknesses and frailties as other men. And she resented him for it.


	5. Chapter 5

Dillon cleaned up the excess blood while Kitty tied off another stitch, as she had seen Doc do so many times before, when it had been Matt lying on the table. The redhead closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a deep sigh of air.

"You're doin' mighty fine, Kitty," Matt's calm voice soothed, "just keep goin'..."

She nodded and opened her eyes, preparing to take another stitch. "I keep tellin' myself that, but this is a lot harder than sewin' up a torn stalking..."

Kitty diligently continued to remove the old sutures and replace them with new ones, until the incision in Lucy's belly was closed. With shaking hands, Kitty set Doc's instruments down on a nearby table, and began washing her hands in the basin. Matt gently covered Lucy with a sheet and blanket, taking the time to wipe her forehead of the perspiration that had collected there. Her breathing seemed calm enough to him, but given the amount of blood loss, only time would tell if she would live or die. Dillon examined her youthful face and said a silent prayer that she'd pull through; not only for her sake, but also for Ed, Kitty and Doc, none of whom would take her loss gracefully.

He moved to stand behind Kitty, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "You should get some rest."

"I will, but I'd like to wait awhile and see how Lucy's doing."

Pressing his body directly up against hers from behind, he gently began to rub her shoulders. Kitty moaned, leaning into his attention.

"I'll give you about half an hour to stop that..."

Dillon chuckled. "I can stay with Lucy, why don't you rest for awhile?"

She shook her head. "You go tell Ed he can come and see her."

"She's going to be unconscious for a long time yet," he offered.

Kitty turned then, wrapping her arms around the big lawman's waist. "He should be with her anyway, Matt." The redhead glanced over at the still body lying on the table, her voice growing soft, "I don't know if she'll make it. He should have the chance to sit with her, just in case."

Matt nodded. "I'll go get him." Dillon reluctantly separated from her, and rolled his sleeves down, moving toward the door. "For all we know, he and Festus are drunk by now. Hope you don't regret giving my deputy the key to the Long Branch; there might not be a drop of whiskey left after tonight."

Kitty smiled then. "Festus can certainly put away his share, but I doubt even he could empty the Long Branch in one night. In any case, it was better than having Ed stay here."

Dillon pulled his big winter coat on. "That's true." His eyes met hers. "No man could bear watching his woman go through something like that." He continued to stare deeply at her. "Do you suppose Doc's all right? Haven't heard a peep out of him for quite awhile..."

Kitty's timbre belied her deep-seated anger, "It's his own fault, and given his responsibility to the people of this town, he shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place. He just doesn't have that kind of luxury."

Matt's lips pulled into a tight line before he spoke. "Kitty, if Doc had known what was going to happen, he wouldn't have, but you can't blame him for blowin' off steam now and again. He's a man, not a god."

"But a man with godlike capability, and an extraordinary obligation to everyone around him." She shook her head, looking into Dillon's eyes. "I know that the burden's awful heavy for him at times, Matt, and I worry about him because of it, but what about Lucy? She doesn't deserve to die because Doc was 'blowin' off steam.'"

Not understanding her anger, Dillon frowned. "You're bein' awful hard on him, Kitty..."

"It's how I feel," she said, barely able to keep her fury in check.

Dillon met her ire with some of his own. "Doc must've felt pretty awful when he tried to find comfort in the bottom of a whiskey bottle because he couldn't handle the guilt of losin' those babies." He put his hat on, reaching for the door. "When he comes to and realizes what's happened, he'll be plenty hard on himself without you helpin' him. As a matter of fact, he might need a friend or two." He opened the door, and looked back at her when she remained silent, his voice becoming brittle, "I'll check on him when I get back."

After a another moment's hesitation, Matt closed the door on his way out. His words clung to Kitty's heavy heart, and she wondered if maybe she was being too hard on Doc: but what if Lucy died? And she slammed her eyes shut against the truth of her anger: what if it had been Matt who had needed him? It was too high a price to pay for a doctor's moment of weakness, and she couldn't defend it. Her heart burned with sorrow; Doc's actions had betrayed her confidence in him, but even worse, it had shaken her love.

Tears filled her eyes over the fundamental shift of emotion clouding her spirit, and the knowledge that life in Dodge would never be the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt looked on as Ed Waters sat quietly in a chair by the exam table in Doc's office, and the marshal felt a lump form in his throat as the frightened man took his wife's pale hand in his own. Dillon had to swallow down his empathy, as memories of Kitty lying there flooded his mind. So easily he could see himself sitting in that chair, taking her hand, praying to any deity who might listen that she not be taken from him. Matt closed his eyes, holding onto the tears that had formed in them, but after a long moment, he opened them, allowing the moisture to fall. Quickly wiping it away, he quietly closed the door to the bedroom, and behind it, the fear in the outer office.

He glanced at the man lying in the bed, and then walked to the window facing Front Street, gently pushing aside the curtain. Day was breaking, and the soft golden-orange hues of sunrise shone across the boardwalk, casting crisp shadows along the glistening snow. He silently watched Festus guide Kitty across the street to the doors of the Long Branch, tip his hat to her, and then wait until she closed the doors behind herself. Haggen pushed his hands deeply into the pockets of his buckskin coat as he turned toward the jail and slowly walked toward it. The deputy spared a small glance up toward Doc's window, and Dillon could see the worry lining his leathered face; then Festus headed quickly for the office, his own cot, and a well-deserved rest.

Dillon allowed the curtain to slip from his fingers, and watched it fall back into place, covering the pane of glass. A moan from the bed called his attention to the man lying on it, and Matt went to him, carefully sitting on the edge.

"Doc?"

His eyes felt as if they'd been nailed shut, but he forced himself to pull them open, and saw the blurry outline of a large man sitting in front of him on the bed. His head felt like a wall that might crumble if the pounding from within didn't end. Adams groaned as he reached for his aching forehead.

"Easy Doc," Matt said as he removed Doc's hand from his brow, placing a cold compress there instead. "That should help with the headache," Matt said gently.

Doc's voice was groggy and low, "How long've you been here?"

"Long enough to clean up a little bit." He picked up a glass from the table, lifted Doc's head and helped him sip some water. "Better?" Doc nodded, and Dillon returned the glass and the old man's head to their respective places.

Doc shivered. "It's cold in here."

Matt reached for the blanket to pull it up tighter, when he realized that both Doc and his bedclothes were wet. "Did you spill some water or somethin'?"

"No..." Doc's eyes closed in pain as he forced his mind into remembering why he was wet, and he answered, "I think Kitty dumped a bowl of water on my head."

One of Dillon's eyebrows arched up. "She did?"

"She was awful mad at me fer somethin'..."

The smile faded quickly from the marshal's face as he gently laid one of his hands on top of Doc's. "Lucy Waters."

The old man's face clouded from the memory stirring just beyond his reach; but then it came back to him. "Lucy...her babies..."

"You were pretty upset last night." Doc looked away, embarrassment filling his eyes, and Matt squeezed the hand under his own. "You put down an entire bottle of whiskey."

The pale blue eyes darted up to the shimmering ones. "That why Kitty was so mad?"

"Not exactly, no." Matt swallowed hard; there was no way to break it to him, he had to just say it. "Ed brought Lucy here in the middle of the night. She opened up her belly wound, and was bleedin' pretty bad--"

"--I don't remember seein' Lucy here..."

Dillon shook his head. "No Doc, you didn't." Matt swallowed, trying to clear away the sadness of the truth. "You...you were..."

"I was too drunk," Adams finished flatly.

Matt's soft blue eyes stared into the doctor's face. "I'm afraid so, Doc."

Adams closed his eyes against the onslaught of guilt and self-recrimination assaulting him from within. He put a hand over his mouth, as though he might cry out with the anguish of forsaking someone who needed him. The dishonor he had visited upon himself, his profession, and all those in Dodge who had entrusted him with their lives was nothing short of despicable. So strong was the bitterness within him, that he could barely swallow as he fought the fiery sting of guilty tears just under his eyelids.

And then it hit him: what if Lucy was dead? He felt the fear begin to crawl up from his belly, rising like a rebellious army hellbent upon overthrowing an unseen oppression, and his eyes flew open widely, as he reached for the bedside basin. Reacting quickly, Dillon held the basin for Adams as the older man wretched dryly over the side of the bed, his stomach long having since emptied. Dillon rubbed a caring hand over Doc's back, as the physician continued to gag on air.

"Easy there, Doc..."

After a few more dry heaves, Adams was able to breathe again, and Matt gently rolled him back over on the bed. He set the empty basin on the bedside table, and once again put a compress on the doctor's forehead. Doc felt paralyzed from fear, but finally, he forced his voice to sound, although he trembled from the effort.

"Is Lucy--"

"--She's still holdin' on, Doc. Kitty did what she could, and Ed's sittin' with her."

Matt saw relief shadow his friend's face as Doc's eyes quickly closed against the moisture filling them. Large tears of guilt squeezed out from under Adams' tightly closed lids, sliding down his flushed cheeks. Doc's chest puffed heavily with emotion-filled breaths, and when a stifled sob finally escaped his lips, Matt tenderly took his hand, grasping it firmly in his own.

Dillon's voice was quiet, but solid in its comfort, "Doc, it's all right."

"She almost died because of me, Matt." His throat tried to close up on him as the weight of his guilt hit him, hard. "A woman almost died because of my selfishness... I don't think that... I'm not sure that I can--"

"--You had no way of knowing the future, Doc. It was a mistake. An error in judgment. It could have happened to anyone--"

"--But it didn't happen to anyone," Doc snapped, "it happened to me. I'm a doctor for God's sake...I took an oath." His grieving eyes bore into Dillon's as his voice faded into a whisper, "It's unforgivable."

Matt tenderly squeezed Adams' shoulder. "You're a human being, Doc, not God."

Adams' eyes glowed with intensity. "A doctor's obligations are more like the latter than the former, and so must his behavior be. There's no excuse, Matt, none. I betrayed the oath I took, and maybe worse, the confidence of everyone in Dodge."

Matt stroked a hand over his friend's brow. "I want you to get a little rest now, and then--" Doc started to shove the bedclothes aside, and Dillon restrained him. "What do you think you're doin'?"

"The least I can do is check on Lucy."

"Doc, you're in no shape to--"

"--Matt, please. I have to see to her, don't you understand that?" The marshal stared silently at the smaller man, and Doc grunted, trying to regain his composure. "Are ya gonna just sit there, or are ya gonna help me up and into my pants?"

"Do I have a choice?" Doc glared at the younger man, so Dillion continued, "All right, all right, I'll help ya..."

* * *

Doc's caring hands shook slightly as he gently inspected the stiches in Lucy Waters. His voice was soft, "Kitty did a fine job. Just fine." He swallowed hard then added, "I'll need to keep her here a few days..." 

"Lucy's gonna be all right, Doc?"

Adams looked at Ed Waters, his eyes a bit watery. "Yes Ed, she will." Dillon saw Adams turn away and mouth the words, "Thank God."

Waters looked the old physician over. "You don't look none too good, Doc. Now that Lucy's a mite better, mebbe you oughta take it easy."

Doc put his hand on the man's shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Ed, about all of it. You don't know how sorry I am."

Waters frowned, but before he could think about it too long, Dillon broke in. "Ed, you should get some rest yourself."

"I don't wanna leave Lucy, marshal."

"We'll see to it that she's never alone, Ed. You go on now. Get something to eat, and some sleep over at the Dodge House. If there's any change, any change at all, I'll come getcha."

Waters stood, glanced at Doc, who was oddly quiet, and then put his hat and coat on. "I think I will, thanks marshal." He looked again at Adams. "Doc? You seem awful uneasy...you sure Lucy's gonna be okay?"

Finally Adams looked at the man. "Yes, Ed, yes, she's gonna be fine."

"Doc?"

"Yes Ed?"

"I'd like to apologize fer beatin' on ya last night. I was outta my head... I know it weren't yer fault that my babies is dead." Ed's voice shook slightly as he continued, "It just hurt so much I didn't know whut ta do..." He blinked away the moisture in his dark eyes and looked deeply into Doc's pale ones. "Mebbe Lucy and I can adopt some younguns whut needs takin' care of."

Doc felt his eyes fill with moisture, and his throat constrict. The two men watched as Adams turned abruptly and stalked into the back bedroom, closing the door behind him. Waters turned to Dillon as he reached for the door.

"He sure don't seem okay."

Dillon cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, he's not feelin' too good, Ed, that's all. Go get some rest; I'll stay with Lucy until Kitty comes to spell me."

"Thanks marshal."

Waters closed the front door, and Matt let out a tight sigh of air. He checked on Lucy's breathing, and deciding that it was fine, headed toward the back bedroom. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. After a moment, he opened it and walked in. Adams was standing in front of the window, staring out, his back to the door.

"Doc?"

The doctor's voice was shaky, "What is it, Matt?"

"You all right?"

"No, Matt, I don't think I am."

Dillon inched toward the old man, stopping a few feet behind him. "Lucy's going to be fine, Doc, you said it yourself."

Matt could hear the emotion, but Doc kept his back to him. "She almost died. And for nothing except my selfishness..."

"But she didn't die." He inched still closer to Adams.

"Do you think if Ed knew the truth that he'd be so forgiving?"

"What truth? That you were overtired and overwrought and drank a little too much? You didn't do it on purpose, Doc, you're not omnipotent. There's nothing to forgive."

Adams spun on him then in anger, his pale blue eyes wet with emotion. "That's where you're wrong, Matt. I know the truth, and I can't forgive myself."

Dillon closed the distance between them, and laid his hands gently on the smaller man's shoulders. "Doc, the hours you've had to keep with your calls have been brutal lately. You're not indestructable you know, you need rest like everybody else."

Adams shook loose from Matt's grip and stepped away from him. "But we both know I don't have the luxury of being like everybody else."

Dillon felt anger rising within. "You're a doctor, not God. Or have you forgotten that?"

Doc's eyes narrowed in fury. "I most certainly have not forgotten that--"

"--Then don't be pig-headed about this. Take some of those damned pills you always give me when you want to knock me out, and get some sleep. You'll not only feel a lot better, you might wake up as the rational man I know..."

Adams looked away, sighing deeply. After several long and awkard minutes ticked by, he finally acquiesed. "All right." He looked into Matt's eyes. "I'm awful tired."

Dillon's voice softened, "I know you are. Do you need anything?" Doc shook his head, and Matt continued, "Okay. I'm going to sit with Lucy until Kitty comes to spell me. Get some rest; things'll look a lot better when you wake up."

Adams watched Dillon walk out of the room, closing the door behind him, and for a long time, he stood in the same spot, unable to move. He took in a long breath of air, trying to calm himself, and then he sat down on the bed; but as tired as he was, he knew he couldn't sleep. He pressed a hand against the burning in his belly, pulling in a sharp intake of air. He closed his eyes in pain, and the thought that he shouldn't have swallowed an entire bottle of whiskey was suddenly apparent. Doc carefully lie down on the bed, still holding his stomach; he thought about calling to Matt and asking for some milk, but deciding he'd been a large enough burden, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep instead.


	7. Chapter 7

Kitty couldn't sleep. She'd done nothing but toss and turn since lying down, unable to keep her mind from twisting in foul directions. Deciding that sleep was a waste of time, she freshened up, dressed and walked downstairs. As she expected, Sam was behind the bar, cleaning glasses and preparing for a day's business, and Louie was sweeping the floors. The older man smiled as she descended the staircase, his mustache spreading above his grin.

"Morning, Miss Kitty," Sam said.

Louie looked up from his sweeping. "Mornin' Miss Kitty."

"Morning Sam, Louie."

As she neared the bar, Sam noticed the dark circles under her eyes, but choosing not to comment, he pulled a cup and saucer from the stack. "Coffee, Miss Kitty?"

"Thanks, Sam."

He poured her a steaming cup of the dark liquid, and as he put away the pot, he nonchalantly said, "Everything go okay out at the Waters' place last night?"

She looked down into the cup, as if some parcel of wisdom would appear, helping her make sense of everything that had happened. She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Sam."

Kitty looked back down into the cup of coffee, her eyes filling with large tears. Sam's brow furrowed in concern, and he gently touched her hand.

"Miss Kitty? What is it?"

Louie momentarily stopped his sweeping, and leaned on his broom, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to know what had happened.

"Lucy had twin stillborns."

"Oh Miss Kitty, what a shame. What a darned shame."

"Doc was pretty shaken up about it, and poor Ed was crushed. He was so upset he took a couple of swings at Doc."

"Ed beat up on Doc?"

"And that wasn't the worst of it. By the time we got back to Dodge, Doc was in the foulest mood I've ever seen; he drank an entire bottle of whiskey and passed out. Lucy opened up her stitches and Ed brought her to the office because she was bleedin' somethin' awful." Kitty's eyes filled with a fury Sam had never seen, and her timbre turned hard. "Matt and I had to do what we could to try and save her, because Doc was too drunk to do anything to help her."

"Well he must've been more than just shaken up, because that's not like Doc," Sam defended.

The anger in Kitty's voice was jarring, "Don't you defend him to me, Sam Noonan, he's this town's only doctor; we can't afford his indulgence. Lucy Waters almost died because of him."

Still observing, Louie tried to make himself invisible as the emotions in the room escalated.

Sam's voice took on an edge of its own, "You're very angry with him, aren't you." It was a statement not a question, and before she could open her mouth to respond, he scolded, "You're upset because you found out that Doc's just a man, capable of the same mistakes as other men." His words hit her hard in the gut, and Kitty nodded sadly, tears silently spilling down her cheeks. Sam smiled gently then, covering her hand with his. "At some point, all little girls have to find out that their father-figures aren't perfect; but Miss Kitty, don't let it destroy the love between you." He looked at her softly. "I don't know that ol' Doc could take that, or for that matter, you either."

Kitty finally met the bartender's eyes. "I've never been this disappointed in a man in my life, Sam. I feel like Doc betrayed me."

Sam let go of her hand, and picked up his rag, preparing to wipe down the bar. "Doc hasn't betrayed you, Miss Kitty, you've just been holding him to a different standard than any other man in your life; a standard that no human being could live up to forever. Even Doc has a breaking point..."

Noonan started wiping down the bar, leaving her to contemplate what he had said. Louie once again began sweeping the floor, although he couldn't believe that Doc Adams almost let a patient die because he was drunk. On a shadow-level buried deep within, Louie Pheeters felt vindicated that a man of Doc Adams' stature had been reduced to a common drunk, incapable of performing his job, and fallen from grace in the eyes of Kitty Russell. But Louie was unaware that the fleetingly dark thought had ever made an imprint on his conscious mind.

* * *

Sam's words had been rumbling through her head all day; and some part of her wanted to let her anger go; but forgiveness was an emotion still far from her heart. She heard the door to the back bedroom softly open, and saw Adams standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Without a word, she looked back down at the newspaper she was reading. Doc shuffled into the room, and over to the exam table to examine Lucy Waters. He pulled out his pocketwatch, and held his fingers at her wrist. After a minute or so, he closed the watch, and returned it to his vest pocket. He gently lifted Lucy's eyelids, checking her pupil response, and then turned to retrieve his stethoscope from the bag sitting on the small table. He listened carefully to her heart, and satisfied that she was stable, he put away the instrument and stared at Kitty, who hadn't said a word to him. 

"Must be some article you're readin'..."

Without looking up she responded, "Yeah."

His eyebrows arched slightly at her cool demeanor, but he ignored it, heading for the stove. He picked up the coffee pot, only to discover it was empty. "No coffee?"

Her voice was flat in its response, "No."

Frowning he set the pot down, and walked over to her, laying a soft hand on her shoulder. "I know you're upset with me, honey, and I don't blame you, but--"

"--You're damned right I'm upset with you, and I have every right to be." She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, and stood up, her fists landing on her hips. "Lucy needed you, and instead, she got me trying to do _your_ job."

"You did real fine, Kitty."

"I got lucky. What if it had been Matt or Festus who needed you? What if one of them had been shot? My God, Doc, what if someone died because of you?"

He looked away, as though she had struck him. His voice was soft and small, "I've thought of that."

She waited for him to say more, but when he didn't continue, she railed at him. "It's too bad you didn't think about it _before_ you got drunk. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to know that Lucy Waters' life was in my hands?"

He looked sharply at her, his voice caustic, "Yes, I think I have some idea what that feels like."

She glared angrily at him, but the hurt look in his eyes stopped her tirade, and her voice grew soft, "Yes, I suppose you do." She moved toward him then, her arms pulling across her chest in a defensive posture. "I've always held you up as the standard of selfless chivalry, Doc, a man completely devoted to humanity; which is to say nothing of the fact that you've always been my emotional safeguard, the one person I could go to no matter what the trouble, but--"

Her voice broke with sadness, and she looked down at the floor.

His voice was deep and soft, "But now you feel you can't trust me; that I betrayed you by forsaking the sanctity of the oath I took as a doctor."

She looked up at him, large tears of sorrow sitting in her eyes, yet refusing to fall. "Yes."

He tried unsuccessfully to keep the desolation of his broken heart from coloring his timbre. "And that moment of weakness has cost me your respect, and I think, a little bit of your love too." He swallowed hard as he looked into her wet eyes. "I'm a lesser man for it."

"Oh Doc," Kitty sobbed, "Doc..."

He closed the distance between them, and pulled her into his arms, whispering low into her ear, "I'm sorry, baby. You'll never know how much."

The door to the office opened then, the jingling spurs giving away the interloper before he spoke. "Doc? Miss Kitty? Whut's wrong? Is Miss Lucy okay?"

Adams' voice was gruff with vulnerability, "Give us a minute, Festus."

"But Doc--"

"--Out!"

Festus quickly backed out the door, closing it behind him. Kitty held onto Doc tightly, crying out all the pent-up emotion from the past two days. He pat her back tenderly.

"I'm very proud of you, honey."

"What for?"

He pushed her gently to an arm's length, and wiped the tears from her face. "For doing what had to be done when I couldn't. You saved Lucy's life, Kitty."

"I did okay?"

He kissed her cheek. "You did perfect."

She looked into his eyes and saw the darkness of devastation in their depths. As she reached to tousle the curls on the back of his head, the front door opened again, once more interrupting them.

"Whut in tarnation's goin' on in here?"

"Mind your own business, Festus," Doc growled as he headed for his desk chair. "It's between me and Kitty, so just never you mind."

Festus imitated Doc's voice, "'It's between me and Miss Kitty, so never you mind...'" Haggen blew air between his lips in anger. "One o' these days yer gonna be on the outside lookin' in you old goat, and we'll see how _you_ like it!"

Kitty chuckled, and pat Haggen's arm. "Aw Festus..." She kissed his cheek. "Matt send you up here?"

"He shore 'nough did, Miss Kitty. He wanted me to spell you and see if Doc's ate anything today."

"I ain't hungry," Adams grouched.

Kitty looked over at him. "Have you eaten _anything_ in the past two days?"

"No," he growled, "and I don't _want_ anything."

"But--"

"--I don't need a mother hen peckin' at me about food. I know when I'm hungry and when I'm not."

He suddenly turned in the chair to face away from them, as if he were looking at something on the desk. He pressed his hand into his belly, the searing pain matching his level of stress.

Unaware that anything was wrong, Kitty continued to needle him. "Well you'd better eat something anyway, Doc. All you've had in the past two days is whiskey, and you tossed that up quite awhile ago." She turned to Haggen. "Tell you what, Festus, I'll stay here a little longer if you'll go to Delmonico's and get Doc something to eat."

"I don't want anything!" Doc roared from his desk.

Kitty ignored him. "Get him some soup, Festus, and maybe some chicken."

"Yessum." He looked over at the doctor, who was staring intently at something on his desk. "You want anything else with that, Doc?"

"Bring me some milk," Adams grumbled.

Haggen winked at Kitty and spoke loudly enough for Adams to hear, "I thought milk was fer babies..."

Adams bounced up from his chair, heading toward Haggen, wagging his finger. "Just get outta here, you scruffy cracker!"

"Cracker? Why you ornery ol' billy goat--"

"--Festus," Kitty interjected, "go get the food. Please..."

Haggen glared once more at Adams, but tipped his hat to Kitty. "Yes ma'am."

The door closed and Kitty looked over at Doc, who had plopped dejectedly in his desk chair, and she felt a pang of worry. She ruffled the curls on top of his head. "Chin up, Curly..."

He smiled weakly at her, nodding, and Kitty thought she saw him wince slightly as he swung his chair away from her; but she couldn't see his face as he grimaced in pain, pressing his fingers into the center of his belly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Please note: this chapter contains a semi-graphic medical scene, sensitive individuals may want to skip it... **

* * *

Adams pulled his glasses off his face when he heard the jingling of spurs on the staircase outside, momentarily the door opened, and Festus peered around it at Doc. 

"What is it, Festus?"

"'Jes came ta see if I could take them dishes back ta Delmonico's."

"Anytime you want, thanks, Festus."

Haggen looked over at the exam table, and was alarmed when he didn't see Lucy Waters. "Doc? Where's Miss Lucy?"

"She's a bit better, so I moved her into the bedroom, where she'll be a lot more comfortable."

"_You_ moved her?"

Doc glared. "Yes, _I_ moved her. I'm not some weak old man you know; I can carry a little thing like Lucy from here into there for cryin' out loud."

Festus nodded uneasily, and changed the subject. "She goin' home soon?"

"Yes, in a day or so. I sent Ed home to get some rest and told him to come back and get her day after tomorrow."

Festus picked up the food tray. "Doc...you didn't ate much. The whole blamed chicken's still here, all ya ate was the soup."

Doc put his glasses back on his face, dismissing Haggen. "I had the milk, Lucy had the soup."

"Now Doc, you heard Miss Kitty afore, you gotta eat somethin'."

"Why don't you just mind yer own business and get those dishes back to Delmonico's, which is what you said ya came fer in the first place!"

Haggen blew air out of his mouth. "Blamed ol' scudder. You jist git ornerier ev'ry day..."

As Festus turned for the door, it opened quickly, and Clem Rogers rushed in. "Doc! Doc!"

Adams stood, pulling the glasses from his face. "What's the matter?"

"It's my boy, Doc, you gotta come."

"Just calm down and tell me what happened, Clem."

Doc began preparing his medical bag as the man nervously told him, "My boy's ailin'. He's got a fever that's jist gittin' worser, and the cut on his arm's lookin' real bad and sorta smells funny."

"What cut on his arm?"

"My boy cut his arm a few days back."

"A few _days_? Why in thunder didn't you come get me then?"

The man shrugged. "Didn't think it was that bad, Doc. Look, wouldja please hurry."

"All right, Clem. You get on back out to yer place, and I'll be along right behind you. Festus, can you sit with Lucy till I get back?"

"Shore I can, Doc. Lemme 'jes go git Matthew and then--"

"--What're you gettin' Matt fer?"

"So's he can ride along with ya, Doc."

"I don't need Matt ta ride along." Adams moved toward the door, carrying his bag. "Clem, you get going." Rogers exited quickly and Doc reached for his coat and hat, turning back to Festus. "You stay out of things while you're here."

"Doc?"

"What?"

"I'd feel a lot better if'n you'd take Matthew along."

"Festus--"

"--It's late Doc, and yer tired, and I know yore a-gonna rush--"

"--I'll be fine, besides, Matt needs to get some rest."

"Wull then I'll git Miss Kitty, she can look out for Miss Lucy, and I'll ride out there with ya."

"Kitty needs her sleep too, and I don't need a baby-sitter. What in tarnation's the matter with you? Yer worryin' like an old hen; you just remember what I said about gettin' into things around here, and take good care of Lucy. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Doc left quickly, before Haggen had a chance to say another word.

* * *

"I ain't lettin' ya take off my boy's arm. I jist ain't!" 

Adams placed his hands calmly on Roger's shoulders, and kept his voice low. "Now Clem, you just listen to me fer a minute. That boy's arm is infected with gangrene. If I don't take the arm, he's gonna die, Clem." Doc paused for a moment, letting the man absorb his words, than added. "It might already be too late."

"You mean he might die anyway?"

Adams brushed an irritated hand across his mustache and chin as he stood and walked a few feet away from the kitchen table. "It's possible. I just don't know. Takin' the arm and treating the infection are the only options available to me."

Rogers leaned his elbows on the wooden surface. "He's a farmer, Doc. Someday he'll inherit this place, and he ain't gonna be able to work it cuz he ain't gonna have no right arm."

Doc moved behind Rogers placing his hands on the man's shoulders, gently rubbing the muscles for a moment, and then said, "Better he be alive to inherit the farm and have to hire a man to help, then for him not to be here at all."

"All right, Doc. All right. Do it."

Adams pat the man, and then turned to his wife, who had stood quietly by while the men argued out her son's fate. "Mrs. Rogers, I need you to boil me some water, so I can sterilize my instruments, and I'm going to need a torn up sheet to help absorb the blood." He pat Rogers again. "Clem, I want you to do me a favor and go out to my buggy and get the bottle of whiskey that's in it. I'm gonna give the boy a shot of it to steady him, and I think you'd better have some too."

Doc began pulling instruments, bandages and medications out of his bag, preparing for the unpleasant task of removing a nine year old's arm. There were times when he hated what he had to tell people, and what he had to do; it seemed to him that the past week had held nothing but terrible news, death and devastated loved ones. He sighed, wishing suddenly that he had listened to Festus and brought Matt along. The big man couldn't have helped him really, but just having his calming presence nearby would have taken the edge off Doc's raw nerves. He looked down at his shaking right hand, and grabbed it with his left: he hadn't had a case of nerves as a doctor in years. He looked toward the door as it opened and Clem came back in with the whiskey. Doc wondered if maybe he should take a shot to calm down; but that had never been his way before he treated a patient. He shook his head, knowing he had to compose himself. The last thing little Cory Rogers needed was to sense that the doctor about to cut off his arm, was scared to death.

* * *

Festus heard the moan from the back bedroom, and quietly opened the door to take a look. As he neared the bed, he could see that Lucy Waters was bathed in sweat, her bedclothes soaked from fever. He put a hand on her forehead. 

"Oh Miss Lucy, yore a-burnin' up. You 'jes hang on now, I'm gonna git Miss Kitty..."

Haggen took off at a run out of Doc's office, down the staircase and across the street to the Longbranch. He banged on the door for several minutes, until finally he saw a lantern glow upstairs. He heard her walk down the stairs, and tried to make himself calm down, but as she pulled open the door, the alarm on Haggen's face was unmistakable.

"Festus? What's happened?"

* * *

Kitty pulled off the now warm compresses, replacing them with cold ones. "Festus, I'm gonna need more of these." 

"Yessum, right away."

Matt appeared in the doorway. "Kitty? How's she doin'?"

"Not very good. I wish the hell Doc would get back."

"You want me to go out to the Rogers place and get him?"

"No, he can't be in two places at once, and Festus said it sounded like the Rogers boy was in bad shape." Kitty put a small ice chip in Lucy's mouth. "I just don't understand what happened. She was so much better, there was no sign of infection."

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If Doc were here, he'd tell you this kind of thing happens sometimes a few days after surgery." He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. "If he isn't back by midmorning, I'll go out and get him. What else can I do?"

"Can you get me some more ice?"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Lucy was going down hill fast and Kitty wondered if she should send Festus out to get Ed Waters. But the thought made her cringe; the man had been through so much in the past few days. She couldn't imagine him taking it well if Lucy died...

* * *

Doc tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder as he continued to detach the lower part with a saw, but he was terrified that he might miss because the child was squirming in agony. 

His voice was much harsher than he had intended, "Hold him tighter, Clem!"

The pale man shook with perspiration watching his only child writhing in misery. "I'm tryin', Doc."

Adams felt the devastation of the man's soul land in the pit of his stomach, and he had to block it out. Cory Rogers needed and deserved all of his attention. As Doc cut further, trying to severe most of the limb before cutting the main artery, the boy's breathing was becoming labored. He needed to hurry. Putting all of his strength and weight into it, Adams bore down on the limb, slicing through the last bits of flesh and bone, and finally, the large artery. Blood spurt out like a fountain, smattering Doc's face and shirt. He kept going until he realized the boy had gone slack.

"Doc! Doc, he ain't movin' no more!" Clem cried.

Adams put the saw down, tamped the bleeding with a clamp and grabbed his stethoscope, listening intently for any sign of life. But he had to face the fact that there wasn't any. Feeling a burden heavier than he could have thought possible, Adams tossed the stethoscope, still covered in blood, back into his bag. He looked over at Rogers, swallowing the bile that was trying come up into his mouth.

"Clem, I'm sorry. I did everything I could. I'm afraid the infection was just too far gone for me to save the boy."

The man's voice was small, "I know you done all ya could, Doc. I jist wish his last minutes wasn't the agony that it were."

Even though it had not been Rogers' intent, the comment caught Doc in the belly like a knife; he had all he could do to remain standing. His voice held tremendous regret, "If I had known I was gonna lose him, Clem, I wouldn't have put him through it."

Rogers nodded, and for a long moment, the two men stared at the child, each suffering his own grief.

"How'm I gonna tell his mama?"

Doc picked up a cloth and gave his bloody face a cursory wipe, succeeding not in removing the blood, but in smearing it. "I'll tell her if ya want me to, Clem; if it makes it easier."

"Thanks, Doc, but that's my lookout. I jist don't know how to do it."

Adams poured some whiskey in the small shot glass by the bed, and handed it to Rogers. "Here Clem, this'll help steady ya."

The man tossed it back, handed the glass back to Adams and said, "I'll come inta town tommorry, Doc, to pay ya. And if ya leave me that thar bottle, I'll replace that too."

"I'll leave it fer ya, Clem, but you don't have to replace it. And you just take care yer time in payin' anything."

The man nodded, and walked out into the living room. Doc poured himself a shot and downed it. He set the glass down and carefully covered the boy's body with a sheet, then he began to wrap his dirty instruments in torn sheets and uncaring, he threw them into his bag. Maybe he _was_ getting too old, and maybe his judgment was becoming addled. If only he could have saved this boy. But he didn't. Without putting his jacket or coat on, Doc plopped his hat on his head, picked up his bag and walked into the living room. Clem was sitting at the table with his wife, holding her hand. Doc touched her shoulder as he passed by them.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rogers."

She looked up into his blood-spattered face and cringed slightly, fresh tears washing down her cheeks. "Let me clean yer face fer ya afore ya go, Dr. Adams."

He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in her chair. "It's all right, Mrs. Rogers. You just take care of yourself, and if you two need anything...anything at all, you let me know."

"I'll walk ya out to yer buggy, Doc."

Adams put a hand on Clem's shoulder, stopping him. "It's all right, you stay here with yer wife."

Rogers nodded. "At least put yer coat on, Doc, it's chilly outside."

Adams smiled sadly and walked out the door.

* * *

He drove his horse hard, the tears watering from his eyes as they were pushed by the wind. He was icy cold, but he didn't care. In that moment, Doc almost wished he didn't have to go back to Dodge. How would he be able to look Matt, Festus or Kitty in the eyes? He was slipping, and there was just no way around it. Poor little Cory Rogers; his last moments on earth had been excruciating. Adams knew he should have recognized the fact that the boy wasn't strong enough to withstand an amputation. Why in the hell did he put him through it, in a vain attempt to save him? Had it been in the interest of saving his own ego? 

Adams had to pull up on the reigns as his stomach fought him. He leaned over the side of the buggy, heaving, although there wasn't much in his stomach to come up. As the bout increased, he got out of the buggy, and bent over in the snow, the strength of it driving him to his knees. He held his stomach as the burning sensation turned into agony.

"Damn this ulcer," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Damn..."

He waited out the pain in the cold snow for another fifteen minutes, then finally, slowly, frozen to the bone, he stood, still holding his belly. He crawled back into his buggy, and slapped the horse's rear with the reins. Day was beginning to break, the sky streaking with purples, oranges, deep reds and yellows; it held the promise of a bright, crisp, new day. But Doc Adams could only lament the fact that he could no longer feel grateful for the beginning of another day; instead he only felt the pain of guilt.


	9. Chapter 9

People stopped to stare as Doc Adams drove his buggy up Front Street. His face still streaked with blood, he was out in the cold in only his shirt sleeves; his clothes and hair were disheveled, and he seemed not to care. Several people shook their heads, wondering what had possessed him; others merely shrugged, figuring whatever it was, Doc Adams could handle it. He stopped at the livery, and grabbed his coat, jacket and bag as Moss came out to collect the buggy and horse.

"Doc? What the hell happened to you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Moss. Give Popcorn some extra grain; it was a long night in the cold fer him."

"Everything go okay out at the Rogers' place?"

Doc looked down, his blue eyes tearing slightly. "I'm afraid not, Moss. Little Cory Rogers didn't make it."

"Aw Doc, that's an awful shame."

The doctor looked up into the comfort of Grimmick's soft eyes. "Yes, Moss, yes it is."

Grimmick watched as the despondent doctor slowly began walking toward his office, still carrying his jacket and coat instead of wearing them. Adams could feel the stableman's concerned eyes following him up the street, but he simply looked down and kept going, ignoring all of the looks the people of Dodge were sending his way. As Doc walked past the General Store, Matt was just coming out, but the old man didn't seem to notice his friend. But the marshal felt his stomach leap into his throat when he caught a glimpse of Doc's condition. Matt caught him from behind, gently touching his shirt sleeve.

"Doc...hold on a minute. What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothin'."

"Sure looks like somethin' to me. You're splattered with blood, and you're walking out here in your shirtsleeves."

Adams' angry voice was loud enough for the whole town to hear as he yelled at Dillon, "This is what a doctor looks like after he cuts a little boy's arm off."

Matt put a soothing hand on Doc's shoulder. "Calm down, Doc. Just take it easy." Realizing that people were staring, Dillon gently but quickly headed Doc toward his upstairs office. "Let's get you where it's warm and get you cleaned up, and then we'll talk about it."

* * *

Kitty turned when she heard the door, and stood dumbstruck at the sight. 

"Doc?" Adams didn't respond, so Kitty looked at Dillon. "Matt? What happened?"

Matt pulled a chair by the stove, and gently put Adams in it. He looked up at Kitty, shrugging. "Far as I can tell things didn't go too well out at the Rogers place, and he drove all the way home in his shirtsleeves. He's as cold as a block of ice. I'm gonna stoke up the fire."

Kitty removed the bag and clothes from Doc's hands, and the hat from his head, while Matt filled the belly of the stove with kindling. Kitty soaked a towel in some warm water, and tenderly began to clean Doc's face. He said nothing, but accepted her fussing without shoving her away. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, then nodded to Matt, silently asking him to leave them alone. As Dillon quietly slipped out the door, she pulled up a chair next to Doc's and sat down.

"You're lookin' a little worse for the wear, handsome." He grunted at her use of the endearment, and she smiled, "You warmin' up a little?"

"I'm fine, Kitty, really."

"Doc, what happened out at the Rogers place?"

He sighed deeply. "It was gas gangrene, and it was too far along. I tried to save little Cory, but there just wasn't nothin' I could do." Kitty rubbed a comforting hand across his shoulders, and he continued, "The only choice was to take the arm and hope he'd survive. But he wasn't strong enough, and you know, I should've seen that." She brushed at the wind-blown curls on the back of his head with her fingers, and his voice grew more vulnerable. "I should have known better from experience, Kitty. I'm not a first-year doctor, or even a tenth-year one. I've been practicin' for close to thirty, and I should have known better."

"Doc, you did your best to save a little boy's life. Why are you beatin' yourself up about that?"

"I shouldn't have taken the limb. His last moments were absolute agony." He looked down at his hands, his voice growing quiet. "I'm just not sure anymore."

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I've lost my touch, Kitty. My hands were shakin' so bad, I'm lucky I was able to hold onto any of my instruments, much less do surgery."

She stood up, moved behind him, and reached under the blanket to gently massage his shoulders. "You're way overtired, Doc, you haven't eaten a darned thing in almost three days, and you're upset. Right now I'm gonna put you to bed, and after you've had a chance to rest, we'll talk about it, okay?"

He remained silent for a minute or so, letting her hands softly rub away the tension. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded calmer, "All right. Lemme just check on Lucy, and then I'll stretch out on the exam table and get some sleep." Her hands came to an abrupt stop, and sensing the dread, he turned to look in her eyes. There was little doubt when he looked into the sea of saddened blue. "Oh no. Oh, please, no." He stood, gripping her arms tightly. "What happened?"

"Shortly after you left, Lucy broke out with a bad fever. Matt, Festus and I did what we could, but it didn't help, the fever got worse and then she just stopped breathin'." The look on his face was not one Kitty had ever seen, and it scared her to the core. She gripped his forearms, not allowing him to move away from her. It wasn't your fault, Doc. Even if you'd been here, you couldn't have saved her."

He looked at her sharply. "We'll never know that for sure, will we..."

She met his biting timbre with some of her own, "You couldn't have been in two places at once, and you were tryin' to save a little boy's life."

"And instead, a husband has to bury the last of his family," he growled, "and a father his only child." He broke gently away from her, his voice soft, "Ed know yet?"

"Festus went out there this morning to tell him." Suddenly unsteady on his legs, Doc sank back down in the chair. Kitty stroked a hand down his cheek. "Please say something, Doc."

For a long moment he remained quiet, then his tortured pale eyes looked up into her crystal ones. "I think I need a little time alone, honey, if you wouldn't mind." The panic in her eyes wasn't lost on him; he gently took one of her hands in his as he stood back up. "Don't look so worried," he said as he squeezed the hand in his. "I just need some time to think..."

She swallowed hard, but knew she had to do as he asked. Kitty leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "If you need anything, Doc, you tell me. Even if you just don't want to be alone, you send for me."

His voice sounded with unusual tenderness, "Don't worry, baby."

But she was worried; however, there was no choice but to do as he asked. He held the door for her and after taking one last concerned look at him, she walked down the stairs, and went as quickly as she could over to Matt's office.


	10. Chapter 10

Festus swallowed hard as he knocked on the weathered door. After a moment, it opened and Ed stood there, coffee cup in hand, staring at him. Haggen looked down trying to brace himself, and then back up, fixing his strong amber eyes solidly in the dark ones of Ed Waters.

"Festus...what brings you out here?"

"Well Ed," Festus began, "I'm a-feared that I got some bad news for ya."

"Bad news?"

"Yessum. It's a mite cold out here, mind if we step inside?"

Waters felt an icy fear crawling up his throat, but he stepped aside, allowing the deputy entrance to the house, closing the door behind him. Haggen walked a little ways in, and then turned to face Ed.

"I don't know how ta tell ya, Ed, but Lucy took real sick last night."

Waters set his cup down on the table, and gripped the back of one of the chairs. "Whaddya mean?"

"Wull she started a-feverin' somethin' fierce, and the poor little thing jes' wasn't strong enough so soon after bein' so sick I guess. She jes' stopped breathin'."

"Why ain't Doc Adams out here doin' the tellin'?"

Haggen looked away for a moment, then forced himself to meet the man's eyes. "Wull, ol' Doc wuz called out to the Rogers place 'cause Clem's youngun, Cory, was ailin'... Onest Miss lucy took sick, Miss Kitty, Matthew and me did whut we could, but Ed, there weren't nothin' to be done."

Ed pulled out a chair from the nearby table and sat in it, feeling as though he'd never again be able to breathe. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, he looked up at Haggen. "Yer sayin' Doc Adams left her to die."

"No, Ed, I ain't sayin' nothin' o' the sort. Lucy was restin' fine when he left. He wasn't even back yet when I come out here, so I don't know if'n he done knows yet."

"Why? First my babies and now my wife." Tears filled the man's dark eyes and Festus put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he continued, "I ain't got nothin' now, Festus. Nothin'..."

"I wisht thar was somethin' I could say, Ed, ta make it better, but I know thar ain't."

Ed's eyes turned a dark black. "You're right, there ain't nothin' you can say. But makin' Doc Adams pay'll make me feel a mite soothed."

"Now Ed, don't you go sayin' nothin' like that. And don't you even start a-thinkin' on doin' nothin'. I done tolt you that Doc Adams didn't know Lucy was gonna git so sick when he gone out to Clem Rogers. You cain't holt him to a doin' that only the Almighty done chooses."

"Don't you go tellin' me this was God's doin' Festus. It was Doc Adams who lost my babies and cut Lucy, it was him who didn't help her when she needed him. It weren't God."

Haggen remained silent for a moment, then said quietly, "I done brought Lucy out to ya in a borried wagon, cuz I knowed yours is with Moss gettin' fixed. I'll help ya do the buryin' if'n ya want me to."

Ed nodded slowly, and as he stood, he said, "I ain't gonna fergit none of this, Festus. I ain't gonna fergit yer kindness, and I ain't fergittin' whut Doc Adams done niether."

Haggen squeezed Ed's shoulder gently. "Yer hurtin' now, Ed, so I ain't gonna argue no more with ya 'bout that. But if'n you raise one hand ag'in ol' Doc, you'll answer to me." Festus headed toward the door. "Now come on, let's take care of Miss Lucy right and proper."

Waters put his coat on and followed Festus outside. But he wasn't finished with Doc Adams, not at all.


	11. Chapter 11

The door to the office opened, and Matt stood when he saw that it was Kitty, a smile lighting his face.

"Hello there, Kitty. What brings you by?"

"I'm worried, Matt."

"'Bout Doc?"

"Yeah."

He walked over to the table in the middle of the room, and held a chair out for her. "Sit down."

Kitty sat in the chair, and waited for the big marshal to sit down next to her.

"Matt, he's takin' all this awful hard."

Dillon tried to remain positive, if only for her sake. "You know Doc, Kitty, he's gonna brood about it for a few days, and then he'll be all right. He always is."

She shook her head. "I don't think so, Matt, not this time."

"How so?"

"He's lost his confidence, Matt."

He smiled slightly at her. "Oh Kitty, come on. He's been a doctor most of his life. He knows what he's doing."

"I'm tellin' you, Matt, he's questioning himself, and his ability. He's takin' all the blame for Lucy, her babies and Cory Rogers. I've never seen him take anything so hard before, and I'm scared, Matt."

Still trying to keep it easy, he smiled again. "I seem to remember someone else accusing him of shirkin' his responsibility not too long ago..."

Cut to the quick, she looked down, her voice full of self-contempt, "And I'm ashamed of myself for bein' so hard on him." When she looked back up, he could see the tears brimming in her eyes. "Can't you do something, Matt, please?"

The marshal frowned then, angry with himself for having underestimated her feelings of guilt.

Dillon took the hand nearest him into his much larger one and lovingly held it. "Kitty, I've known Doc a long time. The best thing to do when he's like this is to give him some space. He'll come around when he's ready."

"Matt, please, would you just go talk to him?" She paused for a moment then said, "Please, for me?"

He nodded at her. "All right. I don't know what good it will do, but I'll talk to him."

She leaned in and kissed his lips lightly. "Thanks, Matt."

He nodded, about to take another brief kiss when the door opened, and Festus barged in. Matt and Kitty awkwardly separated, and Festus, his cheeks turning slightly red, smiled at them.

"Matthew, Miss Kitty..."

Dillon's voice held a tinge of annoyance, "Festus."

Kitty looked at the deputy. "How'd it go with Ed?"

Haggen shrugged. "He took it 'bout like we 'spected."

Kitty's voice belied her fear, "He threaten Doc?"

"Wull, sorta..."

"What did he say, Festus?" Dillon asked.

"He said he was gonna make Doc pay, but Matthew, I think he'll cool down some, it was jes' his grief talkin'. I don't thank he'll do nothin' actual-like."

Kitty turned to the marshal. "You aren't gonna take a chance, are you?"

"Not much I can do, Kitty, unless he tries something."

She stood in anger, her hands balling into fists on her hips. "Unless he tries something? Doc could be hurt of dead after that..."

Festus tried to soothe her. "Now Miss Kitty, I really don't thank Ed's a-gonna do nothin'. I jist plumb don't."

"But we can't know that, Festus."

He turned to Dillon. "She has a point thar, Matthew. Mebbe I should stay with Doc for a little while, and see how she goes..."

Matt shook his head. "You know damned well, Festus, that Doc'll never go along with somethin' like that." He stood then. "Look, let's not overreact. Ed Waters has always been an even-keeled man; there's no reason to think that he'll suddenly go off the deep end."

Kitty's eyes held fire. "Except that he's just lost his entire family, and he thinks it was Doc's fault."

"Let's give the man a little time, Kitty," Dillon said calmly. "As you say, he's just lost his family, it's possible that his words were out of grief." He turned to Haggen. "But just to be on the safe side, keep your eyes peeled, Festus, and if Ed comes into Dodge, I want you to let me know right away."

"I'll do her, Matthew." He walked toward the stove. "I'm gonna put on a pot o' coffee. Miss Kitty, you gonna have some with us?"

Grinning in Dillon's direction, she shook her head at Haggen. "No thanks, Festus. I need to get over to the Longbranch."

"Yessum."

As Kitty reached for the door, her smile disappeared and she said, "Matt, you'll still go and talk to him, won't you?"

The big man nodded. "Yes, I will, right now as a matter of fact."

Kitty walked out, and Matt reached for his hat.

"Matthew, whut about the coffee?"

Dillon's eyebrows raised slightly. "Well, you have it, Festus, and if there's any left, I'll have it when I get back."

Before Haggen could make another comment, Dillon slipped out the door, dodging both his deputy, and the stoutest coffee west of the Mississippi. He just hoped handling Doc would be as easy. But somehow, he doubted it.


	12. Chapter 12

Matt walked into Doc's office to find Adams slumped over his desk, and Dillon's stomach flew into his throat. He went to the doctor and gently shook his shoulders, trying to keep his growing sense of alarm at bay.

"Doc? Doc?"

Adams didn't respond, so Matt gently leaned him back against his chair to give him a cursory check. He put his right hand on Doc's chest, and his left against his back, and felt for a heartbeat.

Dillon's voice was soft and gentle, "Doc..."

Adams groaned, opened his eyes and glared at the big man. "What do you think yer doing?"

Realizing Doc had simply fallen into a deep sleep, relief flooded Dillon's body, and he leaned against the desk, tipping his hat a little ways back on his head. "Well, I'll tell you what I'm not doin' and that's sleeping at my desk in the middle of the afternoon, scaring away prospective customers..."

Adams growled at him, as he ran a tired hand over his stubbly face. "There ain't nothin' wrong with you except yer too nosy. Now go on, get outta here!"

Undaunted by the bite of Adams' voice, Dillon crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I thought maybe we'd play a game of checkers."

Doc stared at the marshal incredulously. "Checkers? You woke me up because you wanna have a game of checkers?"

"Well I--"

"--Do you know how long it's been since I've had any sleep?"

"Well prob--"

"--Almost three days, that's how long," Doc bellowed, "and now you're in here wakin' me up askin' me to play checkers with ya. Of all the insipid thoughts you've ever had. What were you thinkin'?"

"I just thought--"

"--You didn't think, that's what. You saw me over here on my desk and you thought... oh hell, I know what you thought." Doc stood, shoved his hands in his pockets and began pacing. "You thought I'd slipped my moorings, that's what you thought." The tirade ended and Adams stared at Dillon. "Well? Don't you have anything to say fer yerself?"

Matt's eyebrows arched as he shook his head. "You seemed to be doin' just fine without me..."

"Oh Pshaw! I'm not listenin' to another word of this."

As Doc made a break for the coat rack, reaching for his hat and jacket, Dillon realized what the old man was doing, and he gently gripped Adams' arm.

"Hold on a second there, doctor."

Doc glared at him. "Unless you're plannin' on arresting me, Mr. Marshal, you just get your hands off me!"

As gently as he could, he turned Doc around to face him, and as he suspected, Adams couldn't meet his eyes. "That was a pretty clever offensive, Doc, hittin' me with everything you could think of in a barrage of sentences that even Festus would have trouble rivaling."

Adams' voice was low, "Don't you add insult to injury by comparin' me with that flea-bitten poltroon..."

"Doc..."

Finally Adams looked up at Dillon from under his bushy eyebrows. "Didn't fool ya none, huh?"

"No."

Dillon gently led Doc back toward the desk, putting him in the chair. He sat down next to him, taking his hat off and setting it on the desk. The two men stared at each other for a long beat before Dillon took a deep breath of air.

"Doc, I'm really worr--"

The caring hand landed strongly on his forearm, squeezing it gently, stopping Dillon's words. The marshal looked into the soft pale eyes, and frowned.

"Please don't, Matt." Adams looked down, his hand gripping Matt's forearm tightly, his voice shaking, "Don't say anything else."

Matt laid a hand on the old man's shoulder, and waited until Doc's eyes raised once more to meet his own. When Dillon spoke, his voice was like the softest velvet. "How 'bout I just sit here with you for awhile?"

Emotion filled Doc's eyes, and he couldn't speak. He nodded slightly, as he tenderly patted the arm under his hand, unable to burden Dillon with his failure. Matt studied the old man for a minute, noting the air of defeat surrounding him, and Dillon felt a rush of uncertainty. He couldn't remember a time when Doc's languishing spirit had been so outwardly exposed. Kitty had been right. Matt swallowed down his anxiety. He wanted to grab a hold of Doc, convince him of his own value, and tell him that everything would be all right. But the evidence of Adams' inability to tolerate such a display was staring Matt in the face.

And the two men sat there in loving silence, each afraid to shatter their inevitable bond with his innermost conscience.


	13. Chapter 13

Festus had tried to entice Doc into coming to Delmonico's for dinner with him, but the old man had shown little or no interest in food of late. Haggen had even offered to pay for it, but still Doc had refused, citing the need to catch up on the inventory of his supplies as an excuse. the deputy shook his head to himself: Doc was always complaining that he freeloaded breakfasts, dinners and drinks off of him, but when he had offered to buy, the ol' scudder had flat-out turned him down. Haggen's attention was diverted to a conversation nearby when he heard Doc's name.

"I saw Old Mrs. Laube at church this mornin' ya know," Agnes Oxmoor whispered loudly, "and she told me that Doc Adams' drinkin' problem started a long time ago. Before he came to Dodge even..."

Marge Workman's eyes grew wide with delight as the details became juicer. "You don't say! How bad is it, I wonder..."

"Well, do you remember that day he drove into Dodge covered in blood?" Marge nodded wildly, so Agnes continued, "I've heard tell that it was because he drank an entire bottle of whiskey before he tried to cut off the little Rogers boy's arm, and the poor little thing bled to death all over him."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Mrs. Bell heard it from Ida Burford, who got it from Charlotte Doss, who overheard a conversation between Holly Hughes and Mrs. Johnson, who said her husband got it straight from the horse's mouth."

Marge's brow furrowed. "What horse?"

"Why none other than Clem Rogers himself, silly!"

Marge's voice glowed with anticipation, "I'm surprised Clem Rogers hasn't taken it out of Doctor Adams' hide! Little Cory was their only child, ya know..."

Oxmoor's eyes gleamed with joy. "Yes, it was such a shame, and all because the only doctor in town's a drunk! Why I wouldn't go to him if I had so much as a little cough and he were the last doctor on earth!"

Festus could stand not another word. He slapped his money down on the table, stood, grabbed his hat and marched over to the table where the two women were holding court.

His voice held an unaccustomed bite, "Now you two _ladies_ orta know better'n sittin' here at dinner in Delmonico's on a Sunday, chatterin' all the gossip of Dodge like two old hens in a chicken coop."

Agnes Oxmoor glared at Festus. "Why Mr. Haggen, I am merely repeating what I heard from Mrs. Bell, who heard it from Ida Burford, who got it from Charlotte Doss, who overheard a conversation between Holly Hughes and Mrs. Johnson, who said her husband got it straight from the horse's mouth. So it is most certainly _not_ gossip!"

"Straight from the horse's mouth," Haggen spat. He glared back at her. "You orta be ashamed of yerself. Didn't ol' Doc fix yer husband's broke leg last spring, yer horse's colic last fall, and seems ta me he took care of you when ya had pneumonie-a two year's afore that, sittin' up all night with ya. And what'd he git fer his trouble? An ol' sow and a few vegetables, that's whut!"

"Why, why," the woman sputtered, "you just apologize right this minute, Festus Haggen." She looked around, hoping no one had noticed, but in fact, she was commanding every patron's attention. "You take that back this instant!"

Haggen's left eyeball scrunched up in anger at her. "I will not! You owe ol' Doc the apologizin' as fer as I can see!" He turned to Marge Workman. "And you, Mrs. Workman... Doc Adams has delivered all five of yer younguns, saw 'em through whoopin' cough and fevers, and never asked you ta pay him nothin' on account as yer farm ain't done so well. And now yer sittin' here all fat and sassy, a-spreadin' lies about him."

"That's just not true," Marge countered. "I got it from Agnes, who heard it from Mrs. Bell, who heard it from Ida Burford, who got it from Charlotte Doss, who overheard a conversation between Holly Hughes and Mrs. Johnson, who said her husband got it--"

"--Yeah, yeah, straight from the horse's mouth. More like a jack-ass if'n ya ask me..."

"You just mind your manners, Festus Haggen," Agnes scolded, "or I'm going to--"

"--Oh stuff it ya ol' bag o' wind. You two orta jist be ashamed." He stormed toward the door, opening it, and then he turned back. "And you call yerselves good Christian churchgoers. You cain't even control yerselves on Sunday after a church meetin'... Pooey!"

Haggen slammed the door so hard behind him, the building shook slightly. And no sooner did the door shut, the room was abuzz with stories of Dodge's newest, most tarnished citizen...

* * *

Matt adjusted his chair to a better angle in front of the jailhouse, so that he had a clearer view of Front Street. He glanced over at Doc, and noticed that even though he'd cajoled him into coming outside for awhile, the man's spirits were still awfully low. Matt leaned back in his chair, and watched the town stroll by. 

"It's a lot warmer today," Dillon observed, "almost like spring."

"Yeah," Adams responded.

"Lot of people out, takin' it all in."

"Yeah."

Matt looked over at Adams, worry lining the handsome marshal's face. "Haven't seen ya around too much lately...are ya that afraid of Festus' coffee?"

Adams grunted slightly in response.

Matt paused for a moment, then said, "You're afraid I'm gonna whup ya at checkers..."

"Oh, pshaw..." Doc muttered.

Dillon frowned, unable to get a good rise out of the old man. He grinned, then snapped his fingers. "I know, you're afraid Kitty's gonna make you settle up your bar bill!"

Adams hackles raised and he glared at Dillon. "Now you listen here, Mr. Marshal, I don't have a bar bill to settle. Unlike other people around here, I pay my debts."

Matt grinned slightly, then gave Adams a dour look. "Are you insinuatin' I owe you money?"

"Who's insinuatin'? You and Festus always owe me money."

One of Matt's eyebrows arched. "Really, doctor... and I suppose Kitty owes you money as well."

"Kitty? Why of course not."

"I've seen her coming out of your office. Why doesn't Kitty owe you money? You two havin' an affair or somethin'?"

Doc looked at him sharply. "Why you foul-mouthed guttersnipe! Shame on you!" Doc looked away, and brushed at his mustache, grinning. "Fer yer information, Mr. Marshal, Kitty _never_ owes me money, because she's gonna support me in my retirement."

Dillon laughed. "Oh she is, is she?"

"Yes. She's gonna take care of me with all that money she's making, so that I can be old and dodderin' in my rockin' chair."

"Does she know that?"

"Course she does... I've proposed to her about every month for the past ten years..."

Dillon laughed again, and then nodded, doffing his hat as Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Carter walked past. "Afternoon, ladies..."

They both smiled at him, responding, "Marshal..."

Adams tipped his hat as well. "Mrs. Reynolds, Mrs. Carter..."

The two women glared at Doc, and walked on without saying hello. The old man looked down at the boardwalk, suddenly finding the wood fascinating. Dillon licked his lips, quickly trying to think of a way to defuse the obvious snub.

"They're probably late to some church social or somethin'..."

Adams shrugged. "Then the church has been awfully busy lately, and everyone around here must be in a hurry to get there." He looked at Matt. "You should probably think twice about bein' seen with me."

Dillon swallowed hard. "Aw, Doc..."

"I don't even know what the gossip is... probably that I've become too old and incompetent to do any doctoring, but it's been awfully slow Matt, and you can't tell me that nobody's been hurt, and nobody's sick. They'd rather suffer than take a chance comin' to me."

"It'll blow over, Doc. You know how small towns are..." Adams nodded looking down, and then Matt added, "How 'bout we grab some supper at Delmonico's later? You look like you could use a good meal, ya ol' sawbones..."

"No," Doc said shaking his head, "no thanks, Matt. I ain't been too hungry lately." Adams stood, then sighing deeply. "I've got some work to do up in my office. I'll see you later, Matt."

Dillon nodded. "All right, Doc."

Matt watched sadly as Doc slowly shuffled toward his office, people passing by him as if he wasn't there, and Adams unable to look them in the eye. Dillon felt a raw anger bubbling up inside him. After all the years that Doc had devoted unselfishly to the people of Dodge, they were so quick to judge him harshly after a few days of bad timing and hard luck. It tore at Matt's heart so deeply, he had to get off the street, afraid of what he might say to the next "good christian citizen" who happened by.

He wondered how long Doc would be able to cope with the hurt being flung at him day after day until he collapsed into self-destruction, forever lost to despair. And he found that it terrified him to think that he, Festus and Kitty would be unable to protect Doc from himself when that moment came. Taking one last look toward the staircase leading up to Doc's, he shook his head. Dillon closed the door quietly behind him, shutting out the bustle of Front Street, and with it, the ugliness of truth.


	14. Chapter 14

Ed Waters looked up the street toward the livery as he tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the Lady Gay. He pulled the money from his vest pocket and counted out what he owed Moss Grimmick, tucking that into his left pocket. The rest he intended to spend at the Lady Gay; a few drinks before he picked up the wagon and headed home wouldn't matter, especially since there was no longer anyone waiting for him. He blinked back the moisture collecting in his eyes, and stepped up onto the boardwalk. He glanced down the street toward the doctor's office, and for a moment considered alleviating his pain through revenge. But Festus Haggen's promise that anyone harming Doc Adams would answer to him echoed in his mind. Even on his best day, Ed knew he was no match for the deputy marshal with or without a gun.

The stench of tobacco and cheap rye assaulted him as he walked through the batwing doors of the saloon. He stepped up to the bar, and flung two bits at the bartender.

"Whiskey," he grunted.

"Sure thing..."

The burly man poured a shot and handed it to him, and Ed drained it in one gulp. "Another one," he said as he plunked down another two bits.

Ed picked up the second shot, and turned to lean against the bar, surveying the room as he sipped at the second drink. He watched a few men playing poker for a little while, but then a loud conversation between a few fellas at the end of the bar diverted his attention.

"I told ya, Harry," Walt Meyers said, "if'n I was that there feller Clem Rogers, I'd beat the tar outta that drunken ol' sawbones."

"I'd always heard," Abe Page countered, "that Doc Adams was a decent sort and a pretty good doctor."

Harry Stanton took a sip of whiskey. "Wull, I think he used ta be, but he's been hittin' the sauce pretty regularly these days." He took another gulp of alcohol. "At least that's what I done heared."

"That poor boy of Clem Rogers' didn't stand a chance once that ol' doc started sawin' on his arm," Walt snorted, "they say he put down a few bottles of whiskey afore he even started, and a couple more after he killed him."

Abe leaned in. "Well, I did hear that he done killed four people last week. There was Clem Rogers boy and then some homesteader's wife and kids. Wonder if he was drunk when he cut on them too..."

Ed downed a third shot of whiskey and ran his hand over the six shooter on his hip. Maybe Festus Haggen wasn't so fast after all.

"Bartender," Waters growled, "gimme a bottle..."

* * *

Moss stood in the entryway of the livery, enjoying the slightly warmer temperatures of the day. The sun was out for the first time since he could remember, and the snow was beginning to melt up and down Front Street. He glanced behind him, and watched Louie mucking a stall; he always thought it was too bad that Louie's life was so controlled by alcohol, because when he was sober, he was a good, dependable worker. Shaking his head slightly to himself, he returned his attention to downtown Dodge, and the comings and goings of an afternoon. His head turned when he heard someone call out to him. 

"Good day to ya, Moss."

Grimmick smiled at the man approaching on his horse. "Howdy there, Clem."

Rogers dismounted, and shook hands with the stable owner. "Little better weather today for ya, huh?"

"Yeah, it sure is that." Grimmick's smile disappeared. "I was awful sorry to hear about your boy, Clem. Real sorry."

Rogers looked down at the melting snow under his feet. "It truly was a bitter pill fer me and the Mrs..." Clem reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "That's partly why I came to Dodge today."

Grimmick eyed the bottle and then looked dubiously at Rogers. "Oh?"

"I owe Doc Adams some money, and a bottle of whiskey."

Aware of all the nasty gossip circulating around town, Grimmick remained carefully neutral. "Headin' over to his office are ya?"

The man shook his head. "No, I don't much feel like makin' a social call. I jist thought I'd put this here bottle along with a little cash in his buggy." He looked into Grimmick's soft blue eyes. "You'll see that he gets it, won't you, Moss?"

"Sure I will, Clem." He held out his hand. "You give it here, and I'll see to it."

"Much obliged to ya, Moss."

Clem turned to go, but Moss called him back. "Clem...can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure..."

"The night that ol' Doc was out at your place...was he...okay?"

Rogers shrugged. "Seemed to be. A little tired mebbe..." As he thought about it, he added, "And his hands shook a bit. I ain't never seen Doc Adams have shaky hands." He looked into Grimmick's eyes. "But then, I guess that's why he drug out the whuskey, to calm himself down."

Moss looked hard into Rogers' face. "You sayin' Doc was drinkin' that night?"

"Well, I didn't actual see him take a drink, no, but when he was leavin', I smelled it on him sure and plain. He gave some to my boy to settle him, and a shot or two ta me...and then he left the bottle with me. That's why I wanted to replace it. He says he always carries one in his buggy." Moss nodded, but refrained from commenting. "Well Moss, I got to be goin'..." He shook Grimmick's hand. "Thanks for seein' to that whiskey fer me."

"That's all right, Clem. You take care now, and give my best to the Mrs..."

Moss watched Clem mount his horse and ride out of town, unaware that Louie was standing right behind him until the man spoke.

"Funny thing him sayin' that about Doc..."

Grimmick turned his back to Front Street and the entrance of the livery, his eyes narrowing on Pheeters. "What do you mean, Louie?"

* * *

Leading his horse by the reins, Ed Waters stumbled drunkenly toward the livery. His hand ran over the cool handle of his gun, once again thinking about making Doc Adams pay for what he'd done. He tripped slightly over one of his spurs, and thought again: in his current condition he wouldn't have a chance against Festus, and there was little question that Haggen had meant what he'd said about anyone who hurt Doc. Ed felt the sting of tears: none of it made any sense anyway. He rounded the corner to the livery and stopped dead as the voices floated out toward him. 

"I don't know if the rumors is true about Clem Rogers' boy," Louie said, "but I do know that Doc was drunk the night Lucy Waters lost her twins."

Grimmick stared hard into Pheeters' eyes. "Louie," he scolded, "it's just another rumor..."

"No it ain't, Moss. Miss Kitty was with Doc that night and I heard her tell Sam the next mornin' in the Longbranch how disappointed she was in Doc, and how he bein' the only doctor in town and all, he can't drink like other folks. She was furious, Moss, I ain't never seen her so mad."

"Are you sayin' he was drunk when he went out to deliver those babies?"

Louie shrugged. "I don't think so, Moss, but he drank an entire bottle of whiskey later, and when Ed brought Miss Lucy to him that night, he couldn't do nothin' for her on account of him being too drunk."

"Louie, that doesn't sound like--"

Moss was interrupted by a primal scream from behind him.

"--No!" The two men turned to look, and they saw Ed Waters howling in fury. "That bastard! All the rumors is true!" He pulled his six shooter from its holster as he turned toward the main part of town, and ultimately, Doc's office. "I'll kill him," he railed, "I'll kill him!"

Pheeters was mortified. "Oh Moss, I didn't know he was standin' there, honest I didn't... I would never have said nothin'--"

Moss grabbed Pheeters by the arms. "Louie! You find the marshal, and I'll look for Festus. Doc's gonna need help! Hurry!"

The two men took off in different directions, frantically searching for either of the men who could best protect Dodge City's only doctor.


	15. Chapter 15

Kitty looked around at the healthy-sized crowd in Delmonico's and took another sip of coffee. "Lot of people here tonight for supper." She glanced at him over the rim of her cup. "I doubt it's because the food's good..."

Dillon took a sip of his own coffee, and set the cup down on its saucer, his voice peppered with judgment, "Some folks love nothin' better than good, chewy gossip."

Kitty nodded, her voice turning sarcastic, "God forbid they let the facts get in the way..."

Her observation was punctuated by the conversation drifting over from the table on the left.

"Such a sad state of affairs," Mr. Bodkin said, "but I guess we all should have seen it coming."

"How do you mean?" Burke asked.

"A man his age, made his whole life about his career," Bodkin explained, "and now he realizes he's alone. No family, no home, no real money to speak of...he's got nothing. I'd probably hit the bottle too..."

"I didn't realize Doc Adams was such a heavy drinker," Halligan said, "didn't know it'd become such a problem."

"I don't know about you, Halligan, but I'd call killin' four people out of negligence more than just a _problem_," Burke sneered, "I'd call it _murder_."

Dillon grabbed Kitty's arm as she almost flew from her chair, although he was barely able to contain her. She looked back at him, fire in her blue eyes.

"Let go of me, Matt!" She hissed, "I'm gonna give him more than just a piece of my mind."

He looked at the impromptu weapon clutched in her hand and an eyebrow raised. "I can see that. Now put the fork down, Kitty."

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, before she let him take the utensil from her hand. "Oh just wait until the next time he asks to extend his credit at the Longbranch!"

Before Matt could comment further, Louie Pheeters busted through the doors, yelling.

"Marshal! Marshal Dillon! You gotta come quick..."

Matt stood. "Louie, what's the matter?"

"Oh I didn't mean for it to happen, marshal, honest I didn't."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"He overheard me tellin' Moss that Doc Adams was drunk that night...oh marshal, somethin' terrible's gonna happen!"

"Who overheard you, Louie?"

"Ed Waters."

Matt's face contorted with alarm. "Ed Waters!"

"He's got a gun, and he's drunk, marshal. And he took off for Doc's sayin' he was gonna kill him!"

And for a moment in time, it seemed as if everything had frozen still as shots tore through the lull of dusk, echoing across Front Street.


	16. Chapter 16

The force of the bullet ripped through his upper arm, sending him back against the staircase with a thud.

"Doc!" Kitty screamed, running toward him, closely followed by Festus.

Ed stared momentarily in disbelief at Dillon, watching the smoke gently rising from the barrel of the marshal's gun. Then he looked down at his chest, and saw the red blood seeping from the hole in it. The gun slipped from his hand as he fell to his knees, reaching for his chest. And a moment later he crumpled to the ground. Dillon holstered his gun, and knelt down to check Ed's heartbeat.

Kitty reached Doc first, trying to keep him quiet as he fought her to get up.

"Just lie still, Doc."

"I'm all right," he growled, "it's just a flesh wound. I've gotta see to Ed..."

Festus restrained him. "Now Doc, you jes' do like Miss Kitty says..."

But the feisty doctor broke from Haggen's grip, and using the railing of the bannister, stood. He looked over at Matt, who sadly met Adams' gaze with his own.

Matt shook his head. "He's dead, Doc."

Doc closed his eyes and dropped his head, and Kitty noticed his right hand grasping his belly, as if the bullet had struck him there. She glanced at Haggen.

"Come on, Festus, let's get him upstairs."

As they ascended the steps, Agnes Oxmoor called out, "Ed Waters is dead, Dr. Adams...that entire family's gone, and it's on your head. If ya had any decency, ya'd retire and get us a new, young doctor who don't drink none!"

Doc hesitated on the stairs, and Kitty could feel the last of his strength waning, although he said not a word. She braced him with an arm around his waist, leaning closer. "Don't you pay her any mind."

"Don'tcha have nothin' to say for yourself?" Oxmoor badgered.

Dillon moved quickly to where she was standing and glared down at her. "That's enough, Mrs. Oxmoor." He then looked at the crowd. "The show's over, why don't you all go home?"

Matt continued to stare them down, until finally the crowd began to dissipate. He turned to Grimmick and a few others who lingered. "Moss, get a couple of the boys and take Ed over to Percy's will ya?"

"Sure, marshal."

Matt looked up toward the office door, and swallowed hard. He took the stairs quickly and walked in to find Doc lying on his exam table, his shirt gone, and Kitty cleaning the wound. Festus looked up at the sound of the opening door.

"Everything all right downstairs, Matthew?"

Dillon nodded. "Yeah, everyone's gone home." He paused, then said, "How's Doc?"

Festus glanced over at the exam table, then back at Dillon. "His arm's gonna be fine, it's just a flesh wound...it ain't his arm we're worried 'bout." Matt stared into the conflicted amber eyes, and waited until Haggen continued, "He hasn't said a word, Matthew. Not one word. He won't even talk to Miss Kitty." Dillon started toward the table, but Haggen touched his arm, causing the marshal to turn back. "His belly seems ta be hurtin' him somethin' awful too, but he won't tell us whut's wrong. He won't say nothin'."

Matt approached the table. "Kitty? How's he doin'?"

"His arm's okay, bullet went clean through, and didn't hit anything but flesh. I'm sure it stings a bit, but _that's_ nothing _permanent_."

Dillon heard her stress the words and understood her concern. He glanced at the physician and without his shirt, the amount of weight Doc had lost over the past ten days was evident. Matt stepped up to the opposite side of the table from where Kitty was dressing the wound. He laid a soft hand on Doc's forearm.

"How do you feel, Doc?"

Adams stared at the ceiling, as if he hadn't heard the question. Matt tried again.

"You're looking a little on the thin side these days...I think we're gonna have to fatten you up a bit." There was still no reaction. Matt's eyes wandered over to Kitty's, and they exchanged a troubled look. Dillon lightly rubbed the arm under his hand. "Doc, you've gotta say something. You can't just lie there and pretend we're not here."

Adams didn't move, and his voice was devoid of any inflection, "What do you want me to say?"

"Well, I...I guess I want to be sure you're all right."

"Sure, I'm fine." He pushed Kitty away, and rolled off the exam table, reaching for his shirt. "As a matter of fact, I don't need any more help, and I'm sure all of you have better things to do."

"Doc," Kitty scolded, "don't say things like that."

He glared at her, but she stared him down until he looked away. Kitty watched him for a moment trying to button up his shirt, and then she stepped closer, reaching for the fabric. With no other choice, he silently let her button up the garment, and tuck it in, then she put his vest on him.

Finally Festus spoke up, "You orta be in bed, you ol' scudder."

Adams narrowed his eyes at Haggen. "You always like to practice medicine, maybe you should take over as the doctor in town."

Kitty's anger flared slightly. "Now Doc, you stop it. Festus is just concerned about you, and you're takin' this out on him."

Without responding, Adams turned his back to her, pressing his hand against the pain in his belly. Matt had seen enough. He stepped up behind the doctor and gently turned him around, noting the grimace on his face.

"What's going on, Doc?"

"Nothin'," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Don't you stand there and lie to me--"

"--Matt...Agnes Oxmoor is right. It's time for Dodge to get a new doctor."

Dillon put a soft hand on Doc's shoulder. "Agnes Oxmoor is not right. And if you want to bring in another doctor to help lighten the load, we can find someone, Doc, but right now I'm more worried about--"

"--I'm not talkin' about gettin' a young doctor in here to _help_ me. Dodge needs a full-time man to _replace_ me."

Kitty's sorrowful voice cut further into his already shredded heart, "Doc, you can't mean that..."

"I can't handle this anymore, honey. I've got an ulcer in my belly that's eatin' me alive, and hands that won't stop shaking. Five people are dead because of me, and I've lost the trust and respect of everyone in this town. I just can't pretend that these things don't exist."

Dillon's voice remained calm despite the pounding of his heart. "You have not lost the trust and respect of everyone in this town."

"Oh I haven't? Perhaps you can turn a blind eye to the angry stares and a deaf ear to the accusatory grumbles, but I can't. If I stay here, more people are gonna suffer because they don't trust me to help them. I can't live with that."

Festus moved closer, the knot in his throat making it hard to speak, "Whut're you sayin', Doc?"

He looked down for a moment, unable to meet the looks on the faces of his closest friends. "I'm going to send for a suitable replacement to take over my practice." He tried to look at them, but he couldn't meet their eyes as he said, "And I'm leavin' Dodge as soon as I'm packed."

Kitty and Matt exchanged a frightened glance. Festus grabbed a hold of Doc's good shoulder.

"You cain't, Doc. You cain't mean that..."

Kitty tried to keep her voice even, "Even if you bring in a new doctor, why do you have to leave Dodge?"

Doc forced himself to look into her crystal eyes. "There just ain't no more reason fer me to stay, Kitty."

"No reason?" Dillon growled. "This is your home, Doc. You've got friends here, people who--" Matt's voice broke, and he swallowed before he continued, "What about Festus and Kitty...and me?"

Doc shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Matt" Adams forced himself to look into Dillon's hurt eyes. "I'm truly sorry, son, but it has to be this way."

Dillon's voice was filled with raw emotion, "I don't understand you at all."

"Tell me, Matt, if you took off that badge tomorrow, could you stick around and watch somebody else do the job you've done for so many years?"

"Of course I could."

"Oh you could, could you?"

"Yes."

"You're tellin' me that every time you heard a gunshot, or saw a fight, or heard someone call for help, that you'd ignore it?"

"Well I could still lend a hand--"

"--But it wouldn't be yours to handle anymore, Matt. It would be some other man's job, and you'd just be meddlin'." For as much as he hated to admit it, Matt Dillon couldn't argue with the logic of the analogy, and Doc knew it. "I've taken care of the people here too long to watch someone else do it. For as much as this hurts, that'd hurt more." None of them could meet Doc's eyes, and his voice grew soft. "I want the three of you to go on now." They didn't move, and Adams forced his timbre to be grouchy, "You heard me, get outta here!"

Knowing there was nothing more he could say, Matt turned to Festus and Kitty. "Come on, let's go."

Doc couldn't meet Haggen's eyes as Festus turned for the door, nor could he bear to see the tears silently streaking down Kitty's cheeks as she leaned into Dillon for support. The only one he could face was Matt; but while there was a certain understanding in the marshal's eyes, there was a stinging hurt that cut Doc to the core.

And once the door had closed, the doctor who had served the town of Dodge longer than anyone could name, collapsed at his desk, sobbing harder than he thought any man ever could.


	17. Chapter 17

Kitty paced the length of Dillon's office yet again. "We can't let him do this, Matt, we just can't."

"Kitty, Doc's a grown man, we can't force him to stay here."

"Why not? Last time I checked, you were the marshal of this town; you could just lock him up and throw away the key."

"Kitty..."

"Well, you're bigger than he is, can'tcha at least tie him to a chair or somethin'?"

Matt's voice was somber, "As hard as this is, you know we have to let him go."

She nodded but her eyes flooded with tears. "I don't want to lose him." She angrily wiped the moisture from her face. "I'm so upset at the people of this town I could just spit!"

Dillon moved closer to her. "Kitty, no one's to blame; his confidence is gone, and until he finds a way to get it back, he won't be any good to himself or anybody else. Doc's scared to death, and _that's_ why he's leavin'. It's no different than a lawman who loses his nerve."

Kitty stared at him. "If either of you freeze, somebody dies..."

"That's right."

She thought for a moment, then said, "Where do you think he'll go?"

Dillon shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe back East; maybe out West." He ran his hands up and down her arms in comfort. "I'm not sure that he knows."

"You think he's running away..."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I think he is, but I also think he means it to be permanent."

"Dodge won't be the same without him."

Dillon's mouth pulled into a straight line, his eyes growing momentarily distant. "No, it won't."

Kitty wrapped her arms around Dillon's waist, and he pulled her tightly to him. It was all that he could do.

* * *

Festus leaned against the building at the bottom of Doc's stairs, waiting. Matt and Kitty stood off a ways, near the stage that was loading its passengers; but they were waiting all the same. The door at the top of the staircase opened, and Doc appeared, carpetbag in hand. He closed the door, locked it and walked down. He looked into the watery amber eyes staring at him, and he extended his hand. 

"Festus..."

Haggen took the offered hand and shook it firmly. "Doc..."

"Not much to say, old boy."

Festus looked down, then back up into the pale blue eyes. "There's a lot to say, Doc, but it won't help none."

Adams nodded. "Well, it won't keep me here, if that's whatcha mean." Haggen's eyes filled with hurt, and Doc pat his shoulder. "Now Festus, you take good care of my horse; he's yours now."

"Yer givin' me yer horse?"

"I told Moss last night, and the stall's paid up for the next six months."

Haggen fought hard to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. "That means you ain't comin' back never."

Doc couldn't lie to him. "I doubt that I'll ever get this way again, Festus, that's true." He gently turned Haggen's face to meet his eyes. "But that don't mean that I won't think of you...every time I have a cup of coffee that's been boiled to death!"

Haggen growled, as he walked away. "Oh there ya go...ya just couldn't even leave this danged town without sayin' somethin' grouchy, ya old quackety-quack...ol' scudder jes' had ta have the last word, ya did...in all my born days I ain't never knowed nobody ta be so ornery..."

Adams smiled sadly as he watched Haggen head toward the livery, knowing that Festus couldn't bear to watch him leave. He looked across the street, and felt the emotion hit his stomach as he saw Matt and Kitty waiting for him. He took a deep breath, and walked over to them. He extended his hand with a key in it toward Dillon.

"Matt, here's the key to my office. When the new doctor gets here, why you be sure that he gets it. It's well stocked and ready to go fer him, and I left all my books as well, he might find some of them useful. I'm sure he'll have his own medical bag, but I left mine fer him anyway; a busy doctor can always use a spare."

Dillon nodded. "Telegram said Dr. Collins would arrive in about five days."

There was a long awkward silence, none of them knowing what to say, nor how to say it. Kitty turned her head against Matt's arm, trying to hide the tears that were streaming down her face. Finally Doc put out his open palm toward the tall marshal.

"Well Matt, I guess this is good-bye."

Dillon took the strong hand in his and shook it. "Guess so, Doc." Matt cleared his throat, and then said, "I don't suppose ya know where you're headed..."

Adams shook his head. "Nope. I'm just headin' west is all. Maybe I'll go to San Francisco, always did want to see it."

"Maybe you'll drop us a line, let us know where ya are, and how you're doin'..."

Doc smiled, both of them knowing he wouldn't. "Now I just might do that..."

Dillon gently took the bag from Doc's hand. "Let me get this on the stage for ya..."

He stepped away, giving Doc a moment with Kitty, alone. Adams moved a little closer to her, but she couldn't bear to look him in the face. Tenderly he put a finger under her chin, tilting her face toward his, and for a long time they just looked into each other's eyes, neither having the courage to voice the bond of devotion between them. He softly wiped away the tears running down her cheeks, and smiled, but he couldn't keep the deep regard from coloring his voice when he finally spoke.

"You be sure to take care of Matt and Festus fer me." She nodded, but couldn't speak, so he continued, "Try and make Dr. Collins feel welcomed when he gets here. I told him that all of you were the best friends a doctor workin' in a cow-town could have...don't you make a liar out of me!"

The driver of the stagecoach called, "Anyone headin' to Pueblo, let's go!"

Fresh tears washed over Kitty's face, and Doc forced himself to smile at her once again. "Guess it's time fer me to go." But she still couldn't meet his eyes. Once more, he tilted her face to look at him. "You gonna give me just one little smile to take with me?"

Kitty Russell could stand no more. She broke away from him, running toward the Longbranch. Out of habit, Adams started after her, but a large hand from behind restrained him.

"I'll take care of her, Doc; she's got to get used to life without you in it, she might as well start right now."

The words jabbed sharply into Adams, and he had to blink back tears as he stared hard at Dillon. Matt looked down, momentarily sorry for taking such an angry shot at his old friend; but then he realized he had meant it.

"You'd better get on the stage if you're goin'..."

Adams stared in the direction Kitty had gone. "She's very special, Matt; you make sure you always treat her right."

"Don't you worry about it. _I'm_ not goin' anywhere."

Doc nodded, taking the hit internally, and swallowing it down, before stepping up onto the stage. Dillon was angry, and Adams figured he had a right to be. Doc looked one last time at the man he held in his heart as a son, unable to cover the affection in his wavering voice.

"So long, Matt."

"I hope you find what you're lookin' for, Doc."

Adams nodded, and the stage pulled out, dust flying in the wake of the team. Dillon stood there until the stage was out of sight, and he shoved down the emotion that tried to ride its way to the surface. He took in an unsteady breath of air, and then walked slowly toward the Longbranch. Kitty needed him, and that was all the marshal of Dodge knew.


	18. Chapter 18

Doc listened to the steady cantor of the horses, and tried to let himself be lulled by the gentle rhythm of the coach. But he couldn't wipe out Matt's angry words, nor the image of Kitty's tears from his mind. He closed his eyes against the constant burning in his stomach, each passing mile adding to the burden of his heart. And yet he felt that there had been no choice. He couldn't take the guilt nor the shame of what had happened, not at his age. He smiled ruefully at that thought, for it was a lie sure and plain. He was a coward: not in the sense of fearing for his own life, but in fearing for those in his care. The pressure and responsibility of being the only doctor for a hundred miles had finally taken its toll, and he could no longer live with it. But could he live without it? Who was he without those two letters following his name?

He no longer knew.

He had left Doc Adams behind: his life, his practice, and the people he held most dear. He felt ill at ease, as if he'd never again be comfortable in the world. Adams pressed a hand into his belly, trying to ease the worsening pain of his ulcer. He let out a long, slow breath of air, but it didn't help. He opened his eyes and looked out the window. Cimarron crossing was just coming into view. At least he'd be able to get out and walk it off. The stage slowed and came to a stop in front of a small building that served as the stage stop. Doc waited while the young couple who had been sitting across from him in the coach stepped down, and then he slowly followed suit.

"Fifteen minutes we pull out again. There's some fresh coffee inside," the stage driver announced.

Doc looked at the young woman and guessed that she was at least eight months pregnant, and he shook his head at the young man; he should know better than to put his wife on a bumpy stage in her condition.

"Clancy," she said to the young man, "I'd like to wait inside while ya get the wagon. I'm awful tired."

He smiled, putting his arm around her. "Lemme help ya, Jenny, and don't you worry none, I'll be back with the buckboard afore ya know it!"

The young couple stepped inside the way station, and Doc turned in the opposite direction. It wasn't a particularly warm spring day, but Adams pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. He walked a little, but his bellyache was just getting worse, not better. He stepped inside the small wooden structure, and over to the man who was pouring coffee.

"You want a cup?" He asked Adams.

"Much obliged," Doc said.

The man poured him a cup of the steaming liquid, and Adams moved over to a quiet, high-backed chair in the corner of the room, sat down and took a few sips. He leaned his head back against the chair, and closed his eyes for a minute, trying to make himself relax. But the pain was rising to a level that he couldn't ignore. And then suddenly it struck him down. Doc dropped his coffee cup, sending it clattering to the floor as he grabbed his belly, leaning over in agony. The stage driver, just settling in to drink a cup himself, rushed to Adams' side.

"Easy, fella, what's the matter?"

"Pain in my belly," Adams answered through gritted teeth.

Jerry, the stage-driver looked up at Asa, the man pouring coffee. "There ain't no doctor nearby is there?"

Asa shook his head. "Nearest one's in Dodge."

Adams shook his head. "Ain't no doctor in Dodge. At least not fer another five days or so."

Doc cried out in distress, and Jerry leaned him back against the chair, feeling his forehead. "He's burnin' up, Asa."

"Only thing we can do is get him to Elsie Tucker."

"The widow Tucker? What's she gonna do?"

Asa shrugged. "She's a midwife at least. She's got some experience with tendin' folks."

"All right then, help me carry him."

As gently as they could, the two men lifted Doc into their arms. And that was the last thing he remembered before passing out.

* * *

She placed another cold compress on his forehead, trying to quiet his fever. He moaned in discomfort, holding his stomach. She put her hand on top of his, gently patting it. 

"Easy, now. You just take it easy."

"Kitty," Doc muttered. "Kitty..."

Elsie Tucker didn't know who Kitty was anymore than she knew the name of the man lying in her bed, drenched with fever. She only knew that he was awfully sick, and seemed to be getting worse not better. She glanced at the elegant features of his face and decided that for a man in his fifties, he was still quite handsome. She always thought her husband would have remained good looking as he aged, but he died at 43 instead. Adams cried out in pain then, grabbing hard at his stomach. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it.

"You just hold onto my hand, and it'll be all right." She rubbed her other hand soothingly over his belly. "When my husband had a tummy ache, this used to calm him some..."

But the pain was like a hot knife slicing into him and he screamed in agony. Elsie held him down the best she could, and prayed that it would ease up some, for if it didn't, she was fairly certain he wouldn't last the night.


	19. Chapter 19

Matt watched her from the bar as she moved from table to table saying hello to the regulars; but it was easy to see that her heart wasn't in it. She spotted him observing her and walked over.

"How 'bout a beer, Matt?"

"Thanks, Kitty."

"Sam," she said, "two beers."

"Sure thing, Miss Kitty," he answered.

He set the two frosty mugs of beer in front of them and moved down the bar to wait on other customers. Matt took a long sip from his glass, and then looked at her; but he said nothing.

"What, Matt?"

"I didn't say anything..."

She gave him a wilted look. "Uh-huh. What is it?"

"You don't seem to have your usual sparkle tonight."

She looked down into her beer. "I don't, huh..."

Kitty hadn't said a word about Doc Adams for two days, but Matt sensed how much she was hurting. "I miss him too," he said matter-of-factly.

She looked up at him sadly. "It's not the same ol' Dodge without Doc."

"No," he said taking another gulp of beer, "no, it's not."

"I haven't even seen Festus in two days. It's like he left town too."

"He'll come around, Kitty. He just has to get used to the idea."

She looked back down into the suds of her beer. "Where do you suppose Doc'll wind up?"

Dillon shrugged. "I don't know. San Francisco maybe. He always talked about it."

"I can't picture him there."

"None of us can picture him anywhere but here."

She nodded sadly, and took a sip from her mug. "What do you know about this Dr. Collins?"

"Only what Doc told me: that he studied in Baltimore and comes highly recommended from an old friend Doc knew back there."

"Oh. How old is he?"

"I don't know exactly. Probably a good twenty years younger than Doc. Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just curious I guess."

"He's been on staff at some teaching hospital in Maryland."

"Doesn't mean he knows a damned thing about frontier medicine."

"Now Kitty, we have to at least give the man a chance. Doc was from the East, and didn't know squat about bein' a country doctor when he got here. Look at what a country croaker he turned out to be!"

"That's not funny, Matt."

"I didn't mean it exactly the way it came out..."

"Nobody'll be as good as Doc."

"We don't know that. This Dr. Collins might be a very fine doctor."

"Yeah, well, I still don't like him."

"Kitty..."

"All right, all right. I'll wait 'til he gets here. And then I'll say I don't like him!"

Dillon smiled at her sweetly, moving closer to her. "What are you doing later?"

"What'd you have in mind, cowboy?"

He smiled seductively, and Kitty grinned sincerely for the first time in days. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam Noonan caught the familiar look, and knew that he'd be closing early, and opening late. But that suited him just fine; it was nice to see her smile again.

* * *

He groaned as he was gently rolled over onto his back, his stomach muscles still quivering with spasms of nausea. He felt the same calming hands he'd thought he'd dreamt, wiping his face down with a cool cloth. His head was softly lifted and a glass touched his lips. He sipped at the cool water and then his head was gently lowered to the pillow. His belly still hurt like hell, but it was no longer the fire-pit he thought might burn him alive. Adams wondered how long he'd been semiconscious. He knew from his labored breathing and exhaustion that his body was fighting awareness, and that meant blood loss and vomiting. A warm hand began rubbing a gentle circle on his belly; it was soothingly familiar, and he felt himself start to relax. 

A sweet voice that some part of him recognized but couldn't identify lilted at him, "Easy now, it's over. You just rest..."

And for as much as he wanted to force his eyelids open to see the owner of the soft voice, the pull of sleep proved far too strong. Elsie waited until his breathing had evened out to a more normal rhythm, and then softly covered him with a blanket. She picked up the basin she had held under him while he had half-consciously retched blood and bile, and carried it out to clean it, but she left the door to the bedroom open, in case he cried out in his sleep. She shook her head at the stranger, wondering how he had survived a high fever and vomiting blood for two days; and she felt the sting of tears as she thought of how her husband had suffered seven years before, dying a painful death in the end. But this man had raw strength, and she thought, an endless courage to pull him through. There was something distinctive about him, as if he was somehow a different breed than other men.

And Elsie suddenly found herself wondering a lot more about him than just his name.

* * *

Festus watched the stage arrival from behind the safety of Moss Grimmick's livery door. In contrast, Matt stood on the boardwalk at the stage depot, calmly waiting for the coach to come to a stop. The door opened and a few passengers piled out. The last one to emerge was a tall, thin man, about thirty, dressed in an expensive suit, clutching a black medical bag in his left hand. The man turned as the stage driver handed him a large carpetbag, bulging from its contents. Dillon stepped forward, extending a hand, noting that the man was almost his height. 

"Dr. Collins, I'm Marshal Dillon."

"Hello, marshal," the man said as he put his carpetbag in Matt's extended hand, "nice of you to meet me to help with my bags."

Dillon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his voice remained calm, "Certainly, doctor. I'm guessin' after such a long trip that you'll want to head straight to your office, freshen up and get situated."

"Actually marshal," he drawled in his Bostonian accent as he handed Matt his black bag as well, "if you could just take these things and deposit them there, I'd be very grateful. I'll expect to see you after I've washed this dreadful prairie dust down with a glass of champagne."

For a moment, Dillon was speechless, but then he recovered. "You won't find too many saloons in town that offer champagne, but I think you'll find that the Longbranch does."

"The Longbranch?" The man echoed, a slight hint of disdain in his timbre. "And where might I find this establishment?"

Matt nodded down the road. "Other side of Front Street, across from Do--uh, your office."

"Thank you very much, Marshal Dillon, I'm sure we'll see each other later when you bring me the key to my new office."

Matt had all he could do to remain civil as he smiled insincerely. "Uh-huh..."

Dillon shook his head in disbelief as the pompous new doctor walked up the street, but he knew damned well that Kitty would put him in his place; he just wanted to be sure he was there to see it. Matt started toward Doc's office when he sensed Festus falling into step with him, trying in vain to match the marshal's long strides.

"Matthew? Whut do ya thank of the new doc?"

Dillon was so angry, his steps were even larger than normal, and Festus had to practically jog to keep up. "I think our new doctor's a pompous ass, that's what I think."

"A pompy-whut-us? That some fancy new kinda mule?"

Matt stopped on a dime, the anger practically flying out of him. "A pompous ass, Festus. You know, Doc was right, you should have learned to read and then you'd know what words mean when people use them." The hurt look on his deputy's face landed hard in Matt's gut. "I'm sorry, Festus. I'm just upset right now, and not handling it that well."

Haggen's voice was small, "Nothin' ta 'poligize for, Matthew, it weren't nothin' but the truth."

Dillon set the large carpetbag on the boardwalk and squeezed his deputy's shoulder. "I really didn't mean it, Festus, and I am sorry." Matt let out a long sigh of air and bent down to pick up the large bag, once again moving toward the office. "I'm wonderin' if that friend of Doc's back East has some kind of odd sense of humor or if he's just gone senile, sendin' a fella like that out here to practice medicine."

Haggen had rarely seen Dillon so angry that it to ruffled him publicly. "Mebbe the fella's just a good doctor, Matthew. Ya know, we sorta got spoilt havin' a good doctor who wuz also a good friend."

Dillon smiled despite his mood: Festus did have a way of putting things simply but often with great clarity. "You're right, Festus. Dodge needs a good, experienced doctor, not a new best friend."

The two men walked a few blocks in silence, until Haggen finally spoke again.

"We ain't never gonna see the like of ol' Doc again, Matthew, and I think you knowed that when Doc left."

"He was one of a kind, all right. I guess some part of me was hopin' the new doc..."

"Yeah, I know, but he ain't, and I 'spose all of us is jes' gonna have ta git used to it, even if this new feller is some kind o' pompy-mule."

Dillon laughed out loud in spite of himself. "Come on, Festus, let's get the "pompy-mule's" belongings up to his office, and then I'll buy you a beer at the Longbranch."

"Now that thar's the bestest thang I've heard all day."


	20. Chapter 20

She noticed him immediately when he walked into the saloon; but then, he would have been hard to miss. Dressed in an expensive black suit with a long frock coat, silk tie and a gentleman's hat, he stood at least as tall as Sam, although not quite as tall as Matt. His chiseled features gave him a handsome countenance, but she sensed that there was nothing soft or gentle about him. He wore a mustache and goatee which further gave a cold calculation to his presence, and there was an unsettling undercurrent running through him that caused her to shudder. She watched from the table where she was balancing the books, as he approached the bar.

"A bottle of champagne, my good man," he said to Sam.

The large barkeep smiled at him. "I'll be right back with it sir, we don't have much call for that, so I'll have to get one from the storeroom."

"Very well then."

As an afterthought, Sam turned to him. "You know that a bottle's gonna cost you ten dollars..."

The shifty smile faded quickly from the man's face. "I assure you barkeep, I can pay for it."

"Nothing personal," Sam countered, "I just wanted to be sure we were talkin' about the same thing."

Without another word, Noonan walked away from the bar and into the back storeroom to fetch the bottle. Kitty continued to nonchalantly observe the stranger, as he turned his back to the bar, looking out over the room. His eyes landed on her and she quickly averted her gaze down to her books, but it was too late; he had caught her watching him. Thankfully Sam reappeared with the bottle.

"Here you are, sir," the large man said as he popped the cork, pouring a glass of it for the well-dressed man.

He picked up the glass and sipped at it, shrugging slightly. "Not the best I've ever had, but it will do, considering."

He placed a ten-dollar gold piece on the bar, and said, "Another glass, please."

Sam gave him another champagne glass, and the man picked up the glasses and the bottle and walked over to Kitty's table. She pretended to look up in surprise.

"May I?" He asked politely.

She nodded to a chair. "Help yourself."

He removed his hat, sat down, and poured a glass of bubbly for her. "I thought you might do me the honor of joining me. You look like you might appreciate a glass of nectar from the gods."

Kitty eyed him suspiciously, but smiled at him nonetheless. "It's not often I drink it, but as long as you've opened a bottle, I won't say no."

He lifted his glass to her. "To the prettiest sight I've seen since I left Baltimore."

She clinked her glass to his and sipped at the champagne. "Baltimore?"

"Yes ma'am." He smiled at her, but it left her with a hollow feeling. "Allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Dr. Hannibal Collins, most definitely at your service, Miss...?"

"Russell. The name's Kitty Russell."

He smiled even wider, like a predator about to close in on its prey. "Miss Russell, charmed, I am sure." He took another sip from his glass. "How long have you worked in this establishment?"

She smiled at him. "I _own_ the Longbranch, Dr. Collins."

He nodded. "I am impressed. Not only beautiful, but brains too. That's a rarity in any woman, anywhere, much less out here in the middle of nowhere, Kansas."

The smile never faded from Kitty's lips, but her tone changed to a far more piercing sound. "If you find the plains so disagreeable, Dr. Collins, why come here to take over the practice of a country doctor?"

"It's quite simple, really, I became bored with removing gall bladders, tonsils and the like, one surgeon in the legion of many, having to vie for the best surgeries and forced to work the most ungodly hours. I wanted to come out here and loaf a little bit while making all the money as the only doctor in a one-horse town."

Kitty couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh at him, or pick up the bottle of champagne and smash it against his swollen head. Rationality prevailed, however, and Kitty simply smiled at him. "I don't know how to tell you this, Dr. Collins, but you are sorely mistaken about the type of life a doctor in a 'one-horse town' leads."

"Really? My understanding is that Dr. Adams was the only doctor here, which tells me he could set whatever price he wanted for his very valuable services, and fix his office hours the way he desired."

"Doc Adams never had more than three dollars in his pocket at any one time in his entire life. People here don't have money, Dr. Collins, at least not the kind you're talking about, and illness doesn't happen just during office hours out on the prairie. Ford County's made up of farmers and homesteaders, not socialites and lawyers. Half the time Doc was paid with vegetables and chickens, and if he was really lucky, a goat. And his office door was never locked."

The man smiled again at her. "I don't know what kind of physician Dr. Adams was, but it seems like he was not a very good businessman."

"If by that you mean he didn't overcharge, and he never turned away a single person who needed him, you'd be right."

He sensed the depth of emotion bubbling just under the surface of her calm, and that meant useful information and a chance to win a vote of confidence. His eyes played over the curves of her body, and other possibilities involving her crossed his mind; perhaps she and Adams had been more than just friends. He sipped his drink again, then leaned in. "It sounds like you're quite fond of him."

"That's right, Dr. Collins, I am. Everybody loves Doc."

He leaned back in his chair, his smug smile becoming yet more annoying. "Well now, I had heard that he left Dodge in a sort of...how shall I say this? A cloud of doubt? Dead bodies and empty bottles...that's what I heard."

The anger played across her face. "Doc worked hard all his life, and he gave everything he had to the people of this town until they had used him all up. You're going to find out, Dr. Collins, that it's maybe not so easy to be the only doctor within a hundred miles. Patients in and out of your office all day, sick calls out on the prairie, babies bein' delivered in the middle of the night, and people who don't understand the limitations of your craft, blamin' you for things that only God himself could have changed. We'll just see how _you_ handle it after you've been here awhile."

"Why Miss Russell, I do believe I've struck a nerve. Could it be that Dr. Adams wasn't such a good doctor or so beloved after all?"

The anger began working on her face, and what could only be termed as a frustrated shriek issued from her lips, causing several of the patrons to turn in her direction to see what the commotion was about. Dillon and Festus entered just in time to see Kitty losing it.

She stood up, her hands firmly balled at her hips. "You're darned right you've struck a nerve, Dr. Collins. You sashay into town from your big, fancy hospital, in your expensive suit, ordering champagne and bad-mouthing a man who is one of the kindest, most caring human beings I've ever known in my life: don't expect a warm reception. He'd give away his last dollar or the shirt off his back if somebody needed him to, and he wouldn't expect a thing in return. And as for what kind of doctor he is: he's the best, and that's not such an easy thing to be out here. You just remember that the first time you have to set a leg or remove a bullet out in the middle of the street instead of in your neat little hospital."

"Remove a bullet? Why Miss Russell, brava...how dramatic of you!" He leaned forward, smiling seductively at her. "But I rather enjoy a little drama now and then, especially in private. It's obvious you knew the last town doctor quite well, and I'll say this for him: he had exquisite taste. What do you say to you and I getting to know each other a little better, hmmm?"

And Kitty was finished with his pomposity. She picked up her glass of champagne and splashed it in his face, slamming the glass back down on the table. "I'd say you have a lot to learn before you can walk one block in Doc Adams' shoes, and if I'm any judge of character, Dr. Collins, I'm bettin' this town'll break you inside of a month, and you'll be crawlin' back to Baltimore, beggin' to get your soft life back."

Kitty turned on her heel and started for the storeroom, but Nathan Burke's voice stopped her cold. "That's tellin' him, Miss Kitty!"

And the men of the Longbranch let up a cheer, which was quickly squelched by Kitty's icy look. "Don't you talk to me about it, Burke, it's because of you and others like you that Doc's gone." She glared around the room. "That goes for all of you." She nodded toward Collins. "You don't like the looks of this popinjay? Well he's here because all of you turned your backs on a man who devoted himself completely to this town for most of his life. And I'm ashamed of you. I'm ashamed of all of you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're going to get exactly what you deserve!"

Kitty ran from the room, tears spilling down her face. Never one to miss an opportunity, Dr. Collins stood up, pulling cash from his pocket.

"Bartender! Drinks for the house!"

The men moved quickly to the bar to get their free drink, and smiling smugly, Dr. Collins sat back down, satisfied with having deflected the negative attention. Dillon glared in the man's direction, and leaving Festus at the entrance, he walked over to the table, tossing the office key in front of the doctor.

"There's your key, Dr. Collins. I suggest you start playing a different tune..."

Dillon started away, but Collins' raised voice stopped him. "I take it you're another wayward fan of the defiled Dr. Adams?"

"Let me tell you something, _doctor_, if you came here to gouge people who need medical attention you'd better be prepared to buy drinks for the house every night. It'll be the only way you'll keep 'em from tearin' you apart."

"Isn't protecting the citizenry, of which I am one, your job, _marshal_?"

Dillon smiled. "Yeah, it's my job. But everyone here knows I can't be everywhere at once."

Matt turned and stalked out of the saloon with Festus in tow, leaving Dr. Hannibal Collins to contemplate the intricacies of practicing medicine in a one-horse town.


	21. Chapter 21

He fought the grogginess of his head and slowly opened his eyes. The room was unfamiliar, with paisley wallpaper and solid pine furniture that seemed quite worn, but there was a stream of sunlight coming in through a nearby window which cast a warm glow across the floor, streaking shadows over the paisley walls. He tried to turn his head to continue his observance of the room, and he realized he was extremely weak, the small movement making him slightly nauseous. His eyes landed on the petite woman sitting in the chair by the bed, sewing a button on a white shirt. _His shirt._ It unsettled him. He studied her attractive face, but was certain he did not know who she was, though he guessed she was in her mid-forties, and judging by her hands she was used to hard work.

Elsie felt the stare and glanced over at her patient. She smiled at him. "Well, you're awake. I've been wondering what color your eyes were, it's nice to finally see them." She followed his gaze to the shirt she was fixing. "Yes, this is yours, it needed a new button, so I thought I'd fix it for you. I brushed and pressed your suit too; figured I might as well since you weren't wearin' it."

She saw the slight alarm rise in his light blue eyes, and had to cover her own smile as he realized he was in a nightshirt, in her bed, and he didn't even know her name.

He swallowed hard, but his throat remained dry and raspy. "Where am I?"

She picked up a glass of water from the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, lifting his head.

"Here, sip some of this."

The water felt good as it slid down his throat. "Obliged."

She gently lowered his head and set the glass back on the table, but she remained perched on the bed. "You're in Cimarron crossing, and you've been awful sick."

"How long?"

"A week. Jerry Concannon, the stage driver, and Asa Potter who runs the stage stop, brought you to me. You had a blisterin' fever and a bellyache that made you terrible ill. Jerry and Asa didn't know your name though, and there wasn't anythin' in your bag with it either. My name's Elsie Tucker, I'm the midwife in these parts. Care to tell me who ya are?"

"I'm D--" he stopped himself; he was no longer a doctor. "Adams. My name's Galen Adams, ma'am."

"Well Mr. Adams, I'm glad to see you awake, for awhile there, I wasn't any too sure you were gonna make it."

Doc then remembered the soothing hands and the soft voice; they hadn't been a dream. But that realization made him uncomfortable, for he was used to being the caregiver and not the patient. He cleared his throat slightly.

Sensing that her close proximity was making him uneasy, Elsie stood. "I've got some broth warmin' on the stove for ya. You feel like you could eat some?"

His stomach hurt like hell, but he nodded. "I'll try."

She smiled and pat the top of his hand. "You just relax, and I'll bring some to ya."

He closed his eyes, but his mind was busy with pieces of memory floating disjointedly through his consciousness. He remembered drinking some coffee at the stage stop, but that was the last thing he could really recall. And then it struck him: Coffee? What had he been thinking? He ran a hand over his belly, noting the weight he'd lost, and that his muscles felt strained. And his body was terribly weak. He realized that his ulcer must have bled internally, and the weakness was from the fever and blood loss. He shook his head slightly; it was idiotic. He was a doctor and should never have let himself get to such a point.

The aroma of chicken broth tickled his nose, and he felt her sit once again on the edge of the bed. He opened his eyes as she put a napkin over his chest, and propped him up with some pillows behind him. She picked up the bowl, and carefully spoon-fed him, occasionally wiping his mouth for him. Adams felt irritated that a woman he didn't know was fussing over him like an intimate; but he also recognized that without her, he would most likely be dead. She set the empty bowl down, wiped his mouth and removed the napkin from his chest.

She brushed a gentle hand over his brow. "You still seem a little warm." The sensory memory of her familiar hand rushed at him, and his cheeks flushed with color. "You're a little bashful about a stranger taking care of you..."

He shrugged slightly, muttering, "Just not used to it."

She smiled at him. "You married?"

He glared at her. "I most certainly am not."

"You make it sound like a fate worse than death. I was married for almost ten years before my husband died; it was wonderful."

He felt embarrassment color his cheeks further. "I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's all right. He died seven years ago. But I still miss him." She looked into his pale eyes. "You kept calling for a woman named 'Kitty' when you were feverin'...she your gal?"

Hearing Kitty's name stabbed him hard in the gut, and Elsie saw the visceral reaction, although he looked away, saying, "No. No, I don't have a gal."

She shrugged, setting her hand on top of his. "It's all right either way, Mr. Adams, I just thought if you wanted, I could contact her for you. Or any other kinfolk that might be worried where ya are."

He shook his head, looking back at her. "No. I don't have any kinfolk."

She could see the pain in his eyes, and was unsure if it was from his illness or possibly, his heart. "You need to rest now. Close your eyes."

After a moment, he did as he was told, and felt her fingers slowly brushing through his thick hair; but it had been so long since he had accepted attention from any woman other than Kitty, that he felt strangely guilty. Yet the soft stroking of his hair began to relax him, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Mrs. Predlin's voice was like steel grating against steel to his ears. "But I've already toldja, Dr. Collins, Doc Adams always just gave me the pills. He didn't charge me nothin' fer 'em!"

Dr. Collins looked at the woman sitting on his exam table; the woman who had nothing wrong with her, and he smiled. "My dear Mrs. Predlin, I'm afraid that my predecessor was not a very good businessman, which is why the equipment in this office is so utterly lacking. I cannot in good conscience subject my patients to old and outdated instruments, but it takes money to replace them, so I'm afraid I have to charge not only for the pills, but a little more for an office visit."

Mrs. Predlin's white eyebrows shot up. "Whut? Yer gonna charge me more 'n ten cents?"

He nodded. "I am afraid that I am, madame."

She leaned in, staring at him hard. "How much ya gonna charge me?"

"Well, the office visit is a dollar, and I'm afraid the pills will be an additional 50 cents."

"A dollar-fifty? I ain't got that much money, Dr. Collins."

"Well how much have you got?"

She pulled out a coin purse and poured the money out into her hand, counting it. Then she looked up at him. "Sixty-five cents, but I need to pick up a few things at the General Store."

He held out his hand. "Well, I'll take the sixty-five cents as partial payment for the office visit, but I'm afraid I can't give you the pills until you've paid at least the balance on the dollar."

She stared at him blankly, not entirely following what he was saying. "That mean ya ain't gonna give me no pills?"

"That's right, Mrs. Predlin."

"But doctor, I need them pills ta help with my sore back!"

"Mrs. Predlin, I assure you, nothing will happen to you without the pills."

"Hrumph!" Mrs. Predlin slid off the exam table and dumped the sixty-five cents on his desk. "I don't think I like you, Dr. Collins. No sir, I don't like you one bit!"

She slammed the door on her way out, and Collins let out a long sigh of air. But the door opened almost immediately, and Festus walked in. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, and then finally Collins spoke.

"I've seen you around town with Marshal Dillon."

"That's right. The name's Festus Haggen. Deputy Marshal Haggen, actual-like..."

"Well what can I do for Deputy Marshal Haggen?"

Festus eyed the man suspiciously and then took a cursory glance around the room, checking to see if anything was out of place; and he noticed that the items on Doc's desk were switched around. He walked over and began rearranging them.

"Mr. Haggen, what are you doing?"

"These here thangs belongst this a-way."

Collins walked over and immediately readjusted the items. "Well, I like them this way, thank you."

Haggen shoved them around yet again. "But ol' Doc always had 'em settin' like this..."

"_Mr. _Haggen... Is there something I can do for you, or is this merely a fishing excursion?"

Festus glared at him. "This ain't no excursy and I ain't been fishin' since ol' Doc left town." Collins looked at the man, not quite sure what to say. Festus continued, "It's like this, ya see, I got me this sore thumb, and I got ta wonderin' if'n you could do somethin' about it."

"A sore thumb?"

"Uh-huh."

"Which one?"

"Which one whut?"

"Which thumb is it?"

"Oh, my left one."

"What happened to it?"

"Hit it with a hammer..."

"Let me see it." Festus let the man look at his left thumb. "Mr. Haggen, this thumb looks perfectly fine. It's not swollen, there's no bump, there's not even a bruise." Collins let out a long sigh of air. "I'm really far too tired for these games. Between the office calls, house calls and an emergency last night, I've not had one decent night's rest since I arrived in this Godforsaken town."

"Wull, my thumb hurts..."

"There's nothing I can do for you, because there's nothing wrong with it other than what I am assuming is an acute case of oddity."

Haggen wasn't sure what the man just said he had, but he was sure that whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Is that thar oddy-toddy dangerous?"

"Only to your coin purse."

"Whut?"

"It's a dollar for an office visit, Mr. Haggen."

"A dollar? But Doc never--"

Collins held up a hand. "--Yes, yes, I know, Doc Adams never charged you, or only charged you a dime, or twenty cents... I've heard it all day long, every day for the past week, so do spare me the befuddlement and either pay the dollar, or kindly leave!"

"Are you throwin' me out?"

"Yes, I believe that I am. I don't think I can take much more..."

Festus glared at him. "Wull you shore have a funny way of takin' care o' folks. Shore hope I don't git nothin' bad wrong with me, you'd prolly let me lie in the street and die while you were checkin' to see if'n I had any money to pay ya..."

"Oh Mr. Haggen, shame on you! I most certainly would not let you nor anyone else die at my feet; however, unlike my predecessor, I would make sure that eventually you paid your bill." He shook his head, holding the door open for Haggen. "It's a wonder the man had any money at all the way he did business here..."

"A lot you know 'bout it. Ol' Doc never kicked nobody outta his office jes' cuz a feller couldn't pay him right then and thar. Why at the rate yer a-goin' yer gonna scare off most of the folks in Dodge afore ya ever get started!"

"Good day, Mr. Haggen."

Before Festus could mouth-off further, Dr. Collins closed the door. And a moment later, Festus heard the lock click.

"Pffff... pompy-mule..."

* * *

Adams was sitting up in bed when Elsie knocked and entered, carrying a breakfast tray. 

"My, my, your color's lookin' a lot better this morning."

He smiled slightly. "I'm feelin' a little better this morning."

She set the tray on his lap. "As you suggested, Mr. Adams, I'm keepin' the food on the bland side. Soft-boiled eggs, dry toast, a little bit of ham and water. Are you sure you don't want any coffee?"

"I'd love some, Mrs. Tucker, but I don't think it'd be too good fer my belly."

Her eyes narrowed. "For a man, you sure know an awful lot about treatin' sickness; most men'd jump on a cup o' coffee by now."

He was suddenly fascinated by the food on his plate. "Well, I only know about this because it's been a problem in the past, although it's never been this bad before."

She watched him take a bite of food, and then asked, "What'd you call it again?"

"A duodenal ulcer," he answered nonchalantly, "it's a lesion on the wall of the duodenum that can be aggravated by poor diet and stress..."

He looked up at her then, realizing he had said too much.

She eyed him suspiciously. "A sawbones told ya that, did he?"

He glanced down again. "Yeah, some ol' pill-pusher in a one-horse town diagnosed it."

But Elsie had spent time with a doctor while learning to be a midwife, and Adams' casual use of medical terms did not escape her. She looked down at his hands, admiring how gracefully he used them, and it was then that she noticed the unusual way he held his knife while cutting the meat. And it struck her that his hands were very smooth and soft; not the hands of a farmer, rancher or the like, but the hands of a professional man. He had been pretty tightlipped about what he did and where he came from, and it had caused her to wonder if he was running from the law. But now she wondered if he was running from something that was much harder to escape. She walked toward the door, and lingered for a moment, watching him. It had taken a week for him to gain back enough strength just to sit up; but that progress seemed quick, given how sick he had been. She couldn't help but wonder how soon he would be able to leave.

And Elsie Tucker was in no hurry to see him go.


	23. Chapter 23

Matt had wandered in and out of the Longbranch all day, but there had been no sign of Kitty. By late afternoon he was tired of it, and sought out Sam Noonan.

"Can I getcha a beer, marshal?"

"No thanks, Sam. I was wonderin' where Kitty was today, she hasn't been around..."

"She's been workin' in her office mostly."

"Oh." The two men exchanged a long look. "Everything okay with her?"

Sam shrugged. "Mostly." He leaned in closer. "Dr. Collins was in here earlier, and well, you know how she feels about him."

Dillon nodded. "She's been pretty clear about it, yes."

"I think seein' him just makes her miss Doc that much more."

I'll go check in on her..."

"Okay marshal."

"By the way, Sam, the four o'clock stage is late. If it arrives, let me know."

"Sure thing, marshal."

"Thanks." Dillon walked through the door to the office, closing it behind him. He found Kitty working at her desk. "Are you gonna stay back here all day?"

She turned and smiled. "No..."

He walked over and leaned on the desk, crossing his arms. "Your customers are wonderin' where you are, ya know."

"All my customers or just one in particular?"

He returned her smile. "Well, I did notice that as Jed Barton's gettin' drunker, he's raising his glass to you more and more..."

"Liar," she said as she playfully swatted his arm. "Must be a quiet day in Dodge if the marshal's in a saloon drinkin'..."

"I haven't actually had a drink yet." He brushed a stray hair out of her face with his finger. "I've been waiting for you..."

She stood. "What'll you have, cowboy?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. "For right now, just you." Matt leaned down and kissed her deeply.

After a few minutes they separated slightly, Kitty keeping her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. "That a promise for what's coming later, cowboy?"

He smiled. "Uh-huh, I plan to finish rounds early tonight."

She grinned at him. "Won't that make your deputy suspicious?"

He laughed. "I don't think so, he's still too busy complain' about Dr. Collins!"

Kitty stepped away from him. "Oh, don't talk to me about that man. He's a charlatan!"

"Yeah, I ran into Mrs. Predlin in the General Store last week, and I'm pretty sure she'd agree with you."

"What'd he do to Mrs. Predlin?"

"He wanted fifty cents for the pills that Doc used to give her for nothing, and then he took her last sixty-five cents as a down payment for the office visit. She not only didn't get her pills, but had to buy her coffee and flour on credit from Mr. Jonas."

"I can't believe he's gonna charge her for those pills."

"Why didn't Doc ever charge her anything for 'em?"

"Matt, there's not a thing wrong with Mrs. Predlin, but she liked going to Doc's once a week, to complain about how sick she was. Doc always gave her those pills for nothing because they're just sugar pills, and he only charged her ten cents for the office visit because she expected to pay something, and he didn't want her goin' broke."

Dillon frowned. "You think Collins knew they were sugar pills?"

"If he's any kind of _real_ doctor he oughta!"

"Well, I haven't heard any complaints that he doesn't know what he's doing - just that he's chargin' too much for doin' it, and he doesn't seem to like the hours of a country doctor too much!"

"Serves the people of this town right, if you ask me..." She looked up at him, her crystal blue eyes misting slightly, her voice turning soft. "You haven't heard from him, have you?"

He stepped closer to her. "Kitty, I would have told you."

"He's been gone three weeks now, Matt. I was hopin he'd at least send us word that he was all right..."

"It's not likely; he's a man on the run."

"A man on the run?"

"Yeah, and it's the worst kind of running, too, because what he's runnin' from he can never escape."

"Himself." Dillon nodded, and she continued, "Can't you send some inquiries around and see if you have any luck?"

"Kitty..."

"Matt, please."

"All right, I'll try, but don't expect to find him."

The door to the office burst open and Sam Noonan ran in. "Marshal, Miss Kitty, I'm sorry to barge in here, but the stage just pulled in, and there's been a robbery! I think some folks are hurt!"

Matt moved quickly through the Longbranch, Kitty right behind him. Festus was already out at the stagecoach, as were several onlookers.

Dillon looked at Haggen. "Festus, clear these people outta here, will ya?"

Haggen nodded and moved over to the gathering crowd, shooing them away. Matt approached the driver.

"Ted? What's going on?"

"We were attacked about five miles outta Dodge."

"What'd they get?"

"Strong box, but there wasn't too much cash in it."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Not exactly... woman in the coach got sick or something, they didn't touch her."

Dillon looked at Kitty. "Can you see how she is?"

Kitty stepped up into the coach and realized the woman was in labor. She stuck her head out the window. "Festus! Go get Dr. Collins! There's a woman in here about to have a baby!"

"Faster n' you can say rat run over the roof of the house with a piece of raw liver in his mouth."

Haggen took off toward the doctor's office, and Kitty returned her attention to the woman in the coach, while Dillon focused his attention on Ted.

"How many were there?"

"Two of 'em, marshal, but they had their faces covered."

"Damn..."

Haggen and Dr. Collins approached the stage, the doctor stepping up into it, and the deputy moving toward the marshal. "Dag-blamed sawbones...he done wanted ta know why I ain't brung the woman to his office."

Before Matt could comment, Barney ran toward Dillon, waving a piece of paper. "Marshal! Marshal, this just come for ya!"

Dillon took the piece of paper, and read it quickly, then he turned to Festus. "Telegram's from Sheriff Green down in Three Point warning me that a couple of robbers are headin' our way."

"A little late, isn't he, Matthew?"

"A little, but he's sent names and descriptions. He also said they're likely to hit stages, banks, or stores, whatever's easy; they're apparently not choosy."

"We goin' after 'em, Matthew?"

Dillon's lips pursed slightly, thinking. "No, Festus, I think we'll let them come to us."

"How do you know they will, marshal?" Ted asked.

"You said they didn't get much, so they're gonna be lookin' for a quick way to get cash. Dodge is the best place for them to try."

Dillon heard the woman inside the coach scream. "Kitty, everything all right in there?"

"We're workin' on it, Matt..." She yelled from inside the coach.

Collins glared at her. "This is ridiculous trying to deliver an infant inside a stagecoach. We should be in a hospital, or at the least, in my office!"

"We don't have a hospital in Dodge, Dr. Collins, and as you said yourself, we'll never get her up to your office in time, so we're just gonna have to make do!"

The woman screamed in pain again, grabbing for the doctor's coat. "Please help me, please..."

"It's all right, madame, you're just having a baby..." Kitty stared at him unbelievingly, and he growled at her, "What?"

"Where did you get your medical degree from Dr. Collins, the school of hard knocks and insensitive louts?"

"Well, I ha--"

"--No sir, I really don't think you have!

He realized there was no way to defend himself against the red-headed terror, and thankfully, the woman in labor screamed again. "It'll be all right, just try to take deep, slow breaths." Collins removed his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. "Ever helped with the delivery of a baby, Miss Russell?"

"Once or twice..."

Kitty watched while he gently pushed his hand into the woman's womb, pressing against her stomach, checking to see how soon the baby would come, and the look on his face made Kitty's breath stop.

"Dr. Collins?"

He looked at Kitty, and leaned toward her, whispering so the woman couldn't hear. "The umbilical cord is wrapped around the infant's neck..."

"Then we'd better hurry!"

And Kitty saw something she hadn't seen from him before: absolute terror.

"I...I've never delivered one like this...and my God, we're not in a hospital, we're in a filthy stagecoach...infection everywhere, we just don't stand a--"

Kitty put a gentle hand on his arm. "--Dr. Collins, this is a small town, not a big city; there isn't any choice. If you don't do it, both the baby and the mother will die. Don't think about it, just do it."

The woman moaned in pain, and once again grabbed his arm tightly. "Doctor... doctor please help me..."

He swallowed hard and brushed a hand over her brow. "It's all right Mrs... what's your name, ma'am?"

"Jennifer O'Sullivan."

"Mrs. O'Sullivan then--"

"--Just call me Jenny..."

"All right, Jenny, I want you to take slow, deep breaths, and try not to worry. Miss Russell and I are going to help you. Everything will be just fine." He brushed his hand over her brow trying to calm her. "Where are you from, Jenny?"

"Cimarron Crossing...my husband sent me ahead...he thought it'd...be better to have...a doctor deliver our baby."

He frowned slightly. "Where is your husband now?"

"He was planning on...comin' in a few days...we didn't think the...baby wuz comin' yet."

She screamed in pain, and he rubbed his hand over her belly. "Shhhh, Jenny, try and stay calm for me." He turned to Kitty. "You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you to do it, understand?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get to it..."

* * *

She couldn't believe how dusty the pottery on the top shelf of the kitchen had become, but then cleaning it had always been one of her husband Tom's chores, and there had been no one to cook for anyway. But now that there was a man around the house again, there was a reason. He still hadn't said where he had come from, nor where he was going; yet he had seemed content to stay with her, helping out with odd jobs around the house, and now that he was up to it, some chores outside. She heard him on the steps by the front door as she reached for a glass pitcher. Elsie stretched for it, toppling the chair she was standing on just as her fingers closed around the handle. Adams walked in as she fell from the chair, smashing the pitcher and cutting her hand on the glass. 

"Elsie!" He quickly moved to her, helping her up.

Cradling her bleeding hand, she smiled at him. "Why Mr. Adams, you _do_ know my first name..."

Occupied with the inspection of the cut, Adams muttered, "What?"

"You've called me Mrs. Tucker for so long, I wasn't sure you remembered my first name."

He looked up at her then, smiling slightly. "Oh of course I remember it." He guided her toward a chair at the table, reached into his vest pocket, and put on his glasses. "Here now, you sit down, and let me take care of that hand; it's a nasty cut." He gently cleaned her hand with alcohol and then examined the wound more closely. "I think you need a few stiches in that... got a needle and some thread around here?"

"In that basket over there on the sideboard."

He went to it, pulling out a small needle and some thread. He sterilized both items with alcohol, and then he gently cradled her cut hand in his left, holding the needle with his right.

He looked at her over the rim of his round glasses. "This is gonna hurt a little bit, but I'll be as gentle as I can."

"I know you will."

She winced as he began to stitch up the cut, and when he pulled together the deepest part of it, she cried out. "Damnit and tarnation!" He looked at her in slight surprise and she blushed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Adams, it just stung a mite more than I was expecting."

He smiled, finishing the stich. "Now Elsie, I insist that all women who swear at me call me by my first name." He looked at her again over the rim of his glasses. "That is if you remember it."

"I remember it, Galen."

"That's better," he said as he took one last stitch. "There we go. I just need to wrap that." She said nothing as he expertly bandaged the wound, returning his glasses to his pocket when he was finished. He tenderly took her wrapped hand in his, rubbing the top of it softly. "It's gonna hurt for a few days, but I'll keep my eye on it, and make sure there's no infection." He let go of her hand and looked toward the stove. "How 'bout I make us some coffee?"

"I'd like that." She watched him put the grounds, some water and an egg shell or two in the pot, and then set it over the fire of the stove. When he turned back around to face her, his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face, she spoke again. "Galen, can I ask you something?"

"Mmm-hmmm..."

"Are you a doctor?"

His pale blue eyes pierced hers with intensity. "What makes you think that?"

Her voice remained soft and non-threatening, "Well, we've been livin' under the same roof for three weeks, I'd have to be a mite slow not to pick-up on what comes second nature to ya..."

He sighed deeply, then said, "Yes. I was a doctor."

"Was?"

"I'm not anymore."

He started from the room, but she caught his hand with hers as he walked by. "Please don't run away from me because I'm askin' hard questions." He glared at her, and she matched his hard line in the edge of her voice. "You owe me the truth, Galen Adams, and I think you know that."

He nodded stoically, and resigned to it, sat down in a chair. "I was the doctor in Dodge City until about three weeks ago."

"What happened?"

"I lost some patients a little too close together I guess..." The agony in his eyes struck her in the heart, and she wanted to cry for him. His voice continued, sadly, "Made me start to question myself, my abililty, my committment..."

"And you weren't the only one to question those things were you?"

"No. The people I'd taken care of fer more years than I care to recall lost confidence in me. The way I saw it, there wasn't any choice but to bring in a new doctor and leave town fer good."

She took one of his hands in her uncut one. "And you left this woman Kitty behind too..."

He smiled at her then, but his eyes were filled with emotional pain. "Kitty's like a daughter to me." He caressed her hand gently, almost as if it were someone else's. "We were very close, Elsie, and I hurt her very deeply by leavin'."

She looked into the sea of pale blue, and knew there was more. "But she wasn't the only family you left there..."

Her choice of words hit him hard, and he couldn't keep the sadness locked up anymore. "No," he said, his voice full of sorrow, "there was Matt and Festus, two of the best friends a man could ever have." A rueful smile tugged at his lips. "Matt's the biggest man you ever saw, Elsie, and probably the only one with the integrity to match his size."

"You sound very proud of him."

He smiled sadly. "I am."

"And this fellow, Festus, is it?"

He laughed. "Well, that you'd have to see to believe..." He shook his head. "He's as quirky as they come, but there ain't a man alive with a kinder heart than Festus Haggen."

She squeezed the hand in hers tightly. "You miss them terribly, don't you Galen?"

Tears filled his eyes, but none dared to fall. "Yes," he whispered, "but I can't go back there, Elsie, any more than I can ever go back to doctorin'..."

She looked at the caring hand in hers and shook her head. "Seems a shame you gave up doctorin' there bein' so few out here..."

"Maybe. But a doctor who's lost his confidence is nothing more than a danger to his patients. And that I know fer a fact."

She looked deeply into his eyes, hoping against hope, yet believing that she found a reason in sea of sad blue. "What are your plans now?"

The underlying invitation wasn't lost on him, but his heart was like an open wound, still shattered beyond repair. "I don't know." He squeezed her hand gently. "I was hopin' I wouldn't have to decide that fer awhile yet."

"You don't, Galen." She smiled slightly, almost shyly. "I like having a man around the house again..."

Embarrassed, Adams cleared his throat, softly letting go of her hand. "I'll get us that coffee..."

Elsie smiled at his reluctant modesty; she could wait for him to come around. She had waited for seven years to find love again, and it had miraculously been delivered to her door. He just needed time to get to know her: eventually he would grow to love her if she could just keep him with her long enough.

Doc observed her silently as he poured the coffee into two cups; he could feel her desire for him to stay, and her growing sense of emotional attachment, which on some level he found to be an intriguing possibility. But Doc Adams didn't realize how her years alone had created desperation inside of her, nor what that desperation might make her capable of doing in the interest of keeping him with her.


	24. Chapter 24

Kitty looked up the staircase as she mounted the first step, and felt her stomach drop; she hadn't been to Doc's office since he left, and she wasn't sure she could face the memories waiting there to haunt her. But after assisting with the successful delivery of Jenny O'Sullivan's baby boy, she wanted to let the new mother know that Matt had sent a telegram to Cimarron, asking her husband to catch the next stage to Dodge. At the top of the stairs, she swallowed hard as she reached for the worn doorknob. To her surprise, it was unlocked, so she walked in. Dr. Collins was asleep with his head on the desk, and Kitty shuddered, reminded of all the times she had walked in on a morning like this to find Doc in that very place.

Quietly she closed the door, walked over to the stove, put kindling in its belly, and lit it. She picked up the coffee pot, added some grounds, water and egg shells, and put it on the heat. She glanced over at Collins, and it struck her that three weeks ago she would have found Mrs. O'Sullivan and her child out here on the exam table, and Collins asleep in the soft bed in the back. The muffled cry from the bedroom drew her to the door, and she softly opened it, peering inside. Jenny and her little boy were asleep, although the child was stretching his arms and gurgling. Kitty smiled at how peaceful they looked, and how lucky they were to have been in Dodge. She closed the door and glanced back at Collins: maybe there was hope for him yet.

She could smell the coffee, and went to the stove to pour two cups of it. She carried one over to the desk, and gently shook the shoulder of the man asleep there.

"Dr. Collins? Dr. Collins..."

He groaned, reaching for his neck. "Ow..."

Straightening up, he realized he had slept at the desk all night, and understood the nature of his complaining neck muscles. Kitty smiled at him, and handed him the coffee.

"Here, this'll help."

He accepted the cup, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks..." Collins took a long sip. "That hits the spot on a morning like this."

"Yes, I imagine that it does."

He sighed heavily, then said, "Miss Russell, I want to thank you for your help last evening. I'm not sure that Mrs. O'Sullivan and her son would have made it without you."

"For any small part I had in it, Dr. Collins, I assure you, I was happy to help."

He shook his head at her, smiling. "You are a remarkable woman, Miss Russell. Absolutely remarkable."

She laughed. "Dr. Collins, did you just pay me a compliment?"

"Yes, Miss Russell, yes I did." He took another sip of his coffee. "And I meant it too."

"Well this is indeed a new day, isn't it..."

He looked down into his cup. "I deserve that, I suppose..." He looked up at her and she was smiling at him, so he continued, "I've been quite a pain in the nether region, haven't I?"

"That's one way to put it, doctor." She took a sip of her coffee, laughing. "I think there are several townspeople who might have put it a little plainer than that!"

He laughed with her. "I'll bet I can name them!" He took another sip from his cup, and his face took on a more serious countenance. "You know, when I came here, there were so many things that I took for granted. In a big hospital, Miss Russell, a doctor is never truly on his own; there's always another doctor there who is older, wiser, more experienced in the event that he runs into something he's never seen before. People have money, doctors have equipment, medicine, sterile operating rooms... it's nothing like Dodge." He swallowed down some more of the rich liquid, savoring its warmth, and a smile of discovery turned his lips upward. "But out here, a doctor has a chance to prove his worth, to make a difference, and to save the lives of people who truly need him. He has to find his place and then do the best he can." He took another sip of his coffee and looked deeply into her crystal blue eyes, and she could sense the emotion from him. "It's what doctoring is supposed to be. But I didn't know that until now, Miss Russell."

She smiled warmly at him. "My friends call me Kitty..."

"Does that mean I might find my place here in Dodge if I work at it a little more?"

The door to the office burst open then, and Marge Workman rushed in, carrying her youngest child, Abe.

"Dr. Collins! My Abe here was choppin' wood and a splinter flew into his eye! You gotta help him, doctor!"

"It's all right, Mrs. Workman, put him over here on the exam table, and I'll look at him."

The woman set the boy down, and then grabbed Collins by the shirtsleeve. "You gotta know, doctor, that I can't pay you everything I'm probably gonna owe you today, but I can try and get it for you by the end of the week. I promise."

Collins swallowed hard as he looked into the frazzled mother's eyes. He took her arms gently, guiding her to sit in a chair. "Mrs. Workman, I don't want you to worry about the money right now. Let's take care of young Abe first, and then we'll figure out everything else, okay?"

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, doctor. Thank you..."

And Dr. Collins suddenly realized that the tears of gratitude in her eyes were all the payment Doc Adams had ever needed. He pat the woman's arm.

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Workman, I'll have Abe up and around in no time..."

Kitty smiled, set her coffee cup down on the desk, and headed for the door. As she opened it, she turned back to see Collins comforting the boy as he examined the wounded eye.

"I think you're gonna be just fine after all, Dr. Collins," she quietly said as she exited the office, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Festus shook his hand after he slammed the door to the stove shut. "Dag-blamed thing's hotter than a brandin' iron on a Texas range...phew!" 

Dillon looked up from the wanted posters in his hands and smiled slightly. "You could always go see Dr. Collins and let him fix it up for ya..."

Haggen glared at the marshal. "That ain't funny, Matthew." Festus returned his attention to making morning coffee. "That polecat's gonna break this town if'n he keeps chargin' them prices he's been askin' for doctorin'...Ain't nobody's got that kind o' money 'ceptin' for mebbe Jake Worth, but even he's raised a eyebrow er two at it all. I just don't see whut..." As Haggen looked up at the marshal, he realized the man was no longer paying him any mind. "Matthew? Whut is it?"

Dillon motioned for his deputy to come over to the desk. "These two men, Festus..."

"Whut about 'um, Matthew?"

Dillon pointed at the one on the right. "This one's Sam Lasky," he pointed to the one on the left, "and this one's Harry Tipton."

"Ain't them's the ones that the sheriff from Three Point warned ya about, the ones ya thank robbed the stage yesterday?"

"Uh-huh...take a good look at these posters, Festus, and keep your eyes open on the streets." Haggen took the posters and walked toward the stove. "And Festus?"

"Yessum?"

"If they show up in Dodge, I don't want you tryin' to take 'em by yourself, you got that? You come find me, and we'll take 'em together."

"All right, Matthew."

Dillon nodded and then asked, "Coffee ready yet?"

Haggen looked down into the pot, making a dissatisfied face. "I don't think so, Matthew, it ain't the right color."

Dillon's eyebrows raised, muttering, "Which means it's not the color of a muddy river during a flood..."

Haggen glared sharply at the marshal. "Are you sayin' ya don't like Haggen-style coffee?"

"Well, I--"

"--I could shorely make it a mite on the weak side...heck, ol' Doc'd prolly appreciate that, why all that ol' scudder ever does is--"

Haggen stopped himself short as it hit him that Doc Adams was no longer in Dodge, complaining about his coffee. The sudden sadness in the deputy's amber eyes wasn't lost on Dillon.

"It's hard to get used to him bein' gone."

Festus shook his head. "I don't think I'll never git used to it, Matthew." He paused for a moment, than asked, "Whut do you 'spose he's doin'?"

Matt smiled. "Probably sittin' in a rockin' chair on some porch somewhere gettin' fat and sassy, bein' supported by some poor, unsuspecting woman..."

* * *

Adams hefted the large sack of flour from the wagon onto his shoulder and carried it inside the house, setting it down in the kitchen pantry. As he released the weight, he felt a burning in his stomach, and reached for his belly in pain. Elsie came quickly to his side, putting an arm around his back. 

"Galen? What's wrong?"

His voice was slightly strained, "Just got a little pain in my belly, nothin' to worry about."

"Here, come and sit down..."

Adams sat in the nearest chair, rubbing his hand over the tightness in his stomach. "Sure smarts a bit." He looked up at her. "Can I have a glass of milk?"

"Of course..." Elsie poured some fresh cow's milk from the pitcher by the basin into a glass, and handed it to him. After a couple of large gulps, she could see the relief on his face. She ran a soft hand over his forehead. "You've overdone it today, Galen."

"Maybe a little," he conceded.

She smiled at him. "Maybe a lot."

"Maybe." He returned her smile. "It takes a little time for an ulcer to heal."

She took his hand. "Come on, you're going to lie down for awhile."

"I'm really all right."

"I lost my husband because he was too stubborn to know when to let me take care of him; I'm not takin' any chances with you, Galen Adams. You're going to lie down."

For a brief moment, he thought about becoming argumentative, but the slight burning in his belly made him rethink that, and instead, he let her lead him into the bedroom, allowing her to remove his boots, tie and vest before he stretched out on the bed. Elsie sat down on its edge, and gently brushed her hand through his curly hair.

"Get some sleep. You'll feel better in a few hours."

He nodded, and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh of air. A moment later he felt her hand softly rubbing his tummy, the way she had when he had been in so much distress he had barely been cognizant; and his sense memory recognized her gentle touch, recalling how she had relaxed him through agonizing pain. After a fleeting thought that it was perhaps too intimate a gesture to accept from a woman he hardly knew, he let himself go, allowing her to soothe him into a deep sleep.

* * *

Clancy O'Sullivan nervously paced the inside of the stage stop at Cimarron Crossing. 

"Clancy, stop yer hoofin', will ya? It ain't gonna bring the stage no faster..."

"Cain't help it, Asa. Jenny's waitin' on me." He smiled then. "And so's my new son."

Asa smiled and poured him a cup of coffee, handing it to him. "Here, Clancy, have some of this and calm down a little. That stage'll get here, and it'll getcha ta Dodge afore the day's out." He watched the young man and smiled. "Whatcha gonna name that boy of yours?"

Clancy shrugged. "Don't rightly know, Asa, but the way the marshal told it in the telegram, I wouldn't have no son if it hadn't been for that doc in Dodge... maybe we'll name him after that feller!"

"That'd be right nice, Clancy. Right nice..." Asa cleaned up some of the grounds from the stove when an idea struck him. "Say, Clancy, while yer there in Dodge, can ya do me a favor?"

"Don't see why not, Asa. What'd ya need?"


	25. Chapter 25

The two men dismounted their horses and tied them up outside the Longbranch. The smaller of the two brushed some of the dust off his chaps with his hat.

"I wouldn't mind gittin' some o' this dust off me..."

"That can wait until we get done what we came here to do."

The little one leaned in, keeping his voice low, "I don't like this none, Harry. I heared the law in this town ain't nothin' to take light. We'd be wiser ta push on ta some other town."

Tipton grabbed his partner's lapel. "Ain't no other town this large for a hundred miles. This town has a bank, general store and a bunch of saloons that have a big take just waitin' for us to help ourselves."

"Dillon ain't gonna let us git away with all that, Harry. We'll be lucky if'n we git out with one job."

"Sam, don't do no more thinkin'. Let me do the thinkin'. You just do what I tell you."

"I 'spose, Harry..."

"All right then, c'mon."

Tipton pushed through the swinging doors of the Longbranch and after a moment, Lasky followed him.

* * *

Sooner or later, everyone passin' through Dodge made it into the Longbranch, and with that in mind, Deputy Festus Haggen had firmly planted himself at the far end of the bar, facing the doors. He could keep his eye on all the cowboys, talk to Sam and Miss Kitty, and of course there was no downside to free beer. 

Haggen took a long sip from his mug and set it down, shaking his head. "Miss Kitty, this here's the bestest beer in town!"

Sam grinned and said, "If by 'bestest' he means free, than he's got a point!"

Kitty laughed and Sam moved down the bar to wait on some customers. Haggen frowned.

"Miss Kitty, I ain't too sure that Sam got the gist of whut I was a-sayin'..."

Kitty smiled and pat his arm fondly. "He did, Festus, he was just funnin' you a little, that's all."

"Oh."

He looked toward the swinging doors and the two men who had walked in, and Haggen stared hard. Kitty frowned, followed his gaze, then glanced back at him.

"Festus? What is it?"

"Them two's the fellers Matthew's been waitin' on." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, never taking his eyes of Lasky and Tipton as they bellied up to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey. "I'm a-gonna go git Matthew, and I want you to stay clear of 'em. I'll be back faster'n you can say rat run over the roof o' the house with a piece o' raw liver in his mouth." He looked into her eyes then. "You mind whut I tolt ya, now, you stay away from them fellers."

"What if they try to leave?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't care none, Matthew and I can find 'em. You jist stay away from 'em."

She nodded and Haggen quickly went out the back door.

* * *

"Matthew! Matthew!" 

Dillon looked up as his agitated deputy entered the office. "What is it, Festus?"

"It's them two men, Matthew, Lasky and Tipton. They's over at the Longbranch there."

Matt stood. "How long?"

"Jist came on in 'bout five minutes ago. Ordered a bottle of whuskey at the bar."

"Did you tell Kitty who they were?"

"Yessum. An' I tolt her ta stay away from 'em no matter whut."

Matt nodded and walked toward the door, reaching for his hat. "Is there a crowd in the Longbranch?"

"Pretty good on', I'd say..."

Matt's lips pulled into a straight line. "I'm gonna call 'em out to the street then. No sense takin' any chances that someone could get hurt. You watch the back door and make sure they don't try and slip out that way."

"I'll do her, Matthew, and then I'll come 'round the side and cover ya."

"All right."

"Matthew?"

"Yeah?"

"Ya thank them men's gonna come peaceable?"

Matt looked deeply into the concerned amber eyes. "I don't know, Festus."

The two men quickly headed out the door and across the street to the Longbranch. Matt waited until Festus disappeared down the side alley by the back door, and then he stood in the street, by the swinging doors of the saloon.

"Lasky! Tipton! I'm a U.S. Marshal. Throw out your guns and give yourselves up!"

Tipton calmly finished his glass of whiskey and then walked over to the batwing doors, peeking over the top at the large man standing in the middle of Front Street.

"I've heard of you, Dillon and you got no cause ta call me out."

"Depends upon what you'd call cause," Matt answered. "I'd say a bank robbery in Three Point and a stage robbery a few days later gives me cause." Dillon rested his hands on his gunbelt. "And then there's the wanted posters on ya..."

Lasky grabbed Tipton's sleeve. "Wanted posters? We ain't on no wanteds..."

Tipton growled at the smaller man, "Guess we are now, ya simpleton."

"Throw out your guns, don't make this tough on yourselves."

Kitty felt a knot tighten in her belly as Tipton smiled, pushing on the batwing doors to walk out. "I'll come out, Dillon, but I if you want my gun, you're gonna have ta take it." He turned to the smaller man. "Come on, Lasky..."

Sam swallowed hard, but followed Tipton out onto the boardwalk. The men stared at each other for a long beat, then Tipton moved out onto Front Street, followed by Lasky, and a moment later, the Longbranch emptied out behind them. Festus peered around the corner, saw the men in the street, and holstered his gun, slowly moving toward Dillon.

"It's two against one, Dillon," Tipton crowed, "it don't look so good for you."

Haggen stepped up next to Dillon. "The marshal ain't alone."

Tipton laughed. "_What_ in the hell are you?"

"I'm a Deputy United States Marshal, ya knothead."

Dillon growled at them, "Throw down your guns, you're goin' to jail."

Tipton grinned. "But Lasky and I have big plans for Dodge, real big plans. Why you got a general store, a lot of saloons and a bank. Yeah, we got plans..."

"You're not gettin' a thing out of this town, Tipton. Now throw down your gun, let's go..."

The street had filled up with townspeople as word spread like wildfire that Dillon was facing a man off in the street. Kitty looked around at all of them and for a moment wondered if they were really worth Matt risking his life to protect them and their property. After the way so many of them had treated Doc, she wasn't sure she could say yes. She stared at Tipton, and thought that the man's crooked teeth seemed to grow larger as he smiled at Dillon, and she shivered. Then, with the rest of the people of Dodge, she stood horrified as the four men drew their guns.


	26. Chapter 26

The rapid percussion of gunfire filled Front Street for what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only a few precious seconds. In the air hung the acrid smell of gunsmoke and the morose silence of death. It was over so quickly that the human eye couldn't transmit the information rapidly enough for the brain to order the images into a sequence that made sense. Kitty stared at the four men lying in the street, unable to tell who had lived and who had died.

The truth was that Tipton had managed to get the drop on Dillon, drawing and firing first; only a split second behind, Matt had fired his first shot before Tipton's bullet hit him squarely in the chest, somewhere near his heart. Dillon's first shot landed solidly in Tipton's belly, dropping the man to his knees, which was when Tipton fired his second shot, again hitting the downed marshal in the chest, the bullet ricocheting off his sternum, landing somewhere in his right lung. As Matt began to lose consciousness he fired again, sending a bullet into Tipton's heart: the outlaw was dead before his head hit the ground. Festus fired on Lasky, wounding the man first in the leg, and then in the shoulder before himself falling after one of Lasky's bullets grazed his forehead.

Close to the deputy, Sam Noonan went to Festus, who was on his hands and knees, holding his head with his left hand. The bartender held one of his towels to Haggen's head, stifling the blood flow.

"Easy Festus..."

"Matthew...is Matthew all right?"

Noonan looked over toward the ashen marshal who wasn't moving at all. "I don't know, Festus. I just don't know."

Kitty ran to Dillon, kneeling next to him in the dirt. "Matt, Oh Matt..."

Collins appeared then, bag in hand, running toward the downed men. He stopped to check Festus, who was standing, but leaning on Sam Noonan.

"This isn't too bad. Sam, take him up to my office, sit him down, keep his head back, and that towel on the wound."

"Yes, doctor."

Collins glanced at Burke who was leaning over Tipton's body, and Nathan shook his head. Collins pointed toward Lasky. "Take him to the jail, and get some compresses on the bullet wounds and stop the blood flow. I'll get to him when I can."

"Okay," Burke said.

Collins set his bag down next to the big lawman, put his stethoscope in his ears and listened intently. Kitty stared hard into the doctor's eyes, and he had to force himself to block her out, concentrating on the erratic pounding in his ears.

Kitty's voice shook with fear, "Dr. Collins?"

He looked into her crystal eyes, trying to soften the blow. "He's alive, Kitty, and that's about all."

Her tears fell like hard raindrops over her lids and down onto her hand clutching Matt's pale and unmoving one. Collins heard her whisper, "Please, oh God please don't take him..."

Kitty's tears washed through him like tiny daggers of frightened agony, and he had to look away. But everywhere he looked, the eyes of the people of Dodge bore into him; for it was up to him to save the man who put his life on the line for them every, single day. Collins swallowed hard as the weight of the responsibility closed in on him making it difficult to breathe. And suddenly he understood what kind of man his predecessor had to have been, and how much strength the man must have had to have been a frontier doctor for so many years. The cold fear settled down upon him like a cloak, enveloping him with both shame and pride. He felt ashamed for having arrived in Dodge believing that he was not only above country doctoring, but also the people in his care; and yet this abrupt understanding of the man he had replaced gave him an enormous sense of pride in his profession; a pride he had never known in his big city hospital.

He looked over at some of the men standing nearby. "Get the marshal up to my office, quickly and gently."

Several big men moved in to carefully lift Dillon and carry him up the stairs. Kitty grabbed a hold of Collins' arm. "How bad is it?" He stared hard into her eyes, and she tightened her grip. "Tell me."

He took one of her hands in his. "I'll do everything that I--"

"--_How__bad?_"

Collins had to look down. "I won't know the extent of the damage until I can get in there, but it's pretty bad."

Kitty felt her stomach jump in fear, and as she watched him walk toward his office, her mind silently screamed for Doc.

* * *

He stirred in his sleep, pressing further into the warmth enclosed in his arms. But his mind began to move toward consciousness as his body became more aware of sensations long forgotten. His eyes lazily opened to find that he was spooned tightly up against Elsie, his arms wrapped protectively around her small frame. For a brief moment he felt sheer panic and deep shame until he realized that they were both fully clothed; but even so, his heart filled with self-contempt and foreboding. And yet, he did not jerk away, telling himself that doing so would wake her; but in truth, he wanted to relish the moment of waking against a warm body, the scent of perfumed hair filling his head. His wife had been dead for so many years, he had forgotten how comforting it was to awaken next to a woman and enjoy the twilight of sleep. 

For a moment he closed his eyes again, breathing in the memories of another lifetime, and the guilty solace he now felt. But too soon the moment was gone and he knew that the gentleman in him couldn't bear for her to awaken in his arms, perhaps thinking he had taken advantage of her. And for a passing second, he admitted to himself that his body ached with desire to do just that: but such a hunger shamed him. Softly he untangled his arms from her, reluctantly moving away from her warmth, gently rolling off the bed so as not to wake her. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, silently watching her sleep, trying to calm himself down, but the longer he stared at the curves of her body, the more agitated he felt himself becoming.

He abruptly turned from the bedroom, and walked over to the kitchen table, sitting down in a chair. He leaned his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands, chastising himself for indulging in emotions base enough for a cowboy who'd been out on the range for six months. He grinned slightly at that; it had been a lot longer than six months since he had allowed himself to feel the way a man does for a woman. His medical dedication had served his patients well, but he had to wonder if his self-imposed bachelorhood was one of the reasons he had an ulcer ripping apart his stomach and surgical hands that he could no longer trust. He looked again toward the bedroom door: he was no longer a doctor with the responsibility of all the lives around him. For the first time since his wife had died he found himself looking at a woman the way a man was supposed to look at a woman, and he grinned; it was the way Matt always looked at Kitty.

_Kitty and Matt._ He slammed his eyes shut against the onslaught of unbearable emotion. God how he missed them...

* * *

Kitty stood several feet from the table and watched in grim worry as Collins tried again to dig out the second bullet. The first had nicked a large artery near Matt's heart, severely weakening the big man, but Collins had managed to get the bullet out, tying off all the arteries surrounding it. The second bullet, however, was not only difficult to reach, but had to be extracted with the utmost care or risk watching the man bleed to death within minutes. Perspiration beaded the doctor's forehead and his bicep bulged slightly as he gripped the forceps tightly in his hand. His mouth pulled into a tight line as he tugged hard, but as had been the case several times before, the forceps slipped, leaving the bullet lodged between the spine, fourth rib, and lung tissue, dangerously near the pulmonary artery of Dillon's right lobe. 

"Dr. Collins?"

He let out a long breath of air and looked over at Kitty, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this before, much less tried to fix it. The bullet's lodged in there tighter than a wet drum, and I can't just rip it out, because I might hit the pulmonary artery, and if I do that we'll lose him for sure." He swallowed hard, his anger over his lacking skills rising to the surface. "I'm a little out of my depth, Kitty, but I am doing my best."

She choked back her own tears, managing to say, "I know you are..."

Festus sat dazed in a nearby chair, a gauze bandage wrapped around his head, Sam Noonan standing next to him gently rubbing the deputy's neck. They looked on as Collins tried again to get the bullet out, once again losing it in the grip of his instruments. Irate with himself and the situation, Collins tossed the forceps into a nearby basin. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down, but he knew he was too inexperienced and would kill the man if he continued. He looked over at Kitty, then at Sam and Festus, his face completely drained of its color, his defeat echoing silently through the room. For the longest time, they all stared at each other, none able to voice the truth.

Haggen finally took a long breath of air and said, "Ain't thar nothin' you can do, doctor?"

Collins looked sadly at Haggen. "I'm afraid I've done everything that I know to do, Festus. I just don't have the know-how for a wound like this; if I try to extract that bullet, I'll kill him for sure." He looked over at Kitty. "If you know of another surgeon in these parts with this kind of experience, I suggest we contact him, and quickly."

"Doc Adams was the only surgeon for a hundred miles, and he didnt' tell us where he was going." She swallowed hard and pleaded, "You don't know of anyone else?"

He moved over to her, gently taking her arms in his hands. "The only surgeons I know, Kitty, are all back in Baltimore, and by the time they'd get here..."

She looked down unsuccessfully trying to keep the tears at bay. When she glanced back up at him, her face was streaked with sadness. "How long does he have?"

Collins shook his head. "I can't say for sure, but probably not more than 24 hours given the damage to his lung and the artery."

Kitty clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep a sob from emanating throughout the room. Collins rubbed her arms for a moment, then turned to Festus. "Is there any way you can think of to locate Dr. Adams?"

Festus shook his head, the pain from the bullet graze asserting itself. "None that I knowed of..."

"Why don't I send out telegrams to all the cities between here and Pueblo," Sam offered, "which we know he was headed for, and see if anyone's heard of him."

"Doc's been gone for more than three weeks, Sam," Kitty cried, "even if we do find him, he'll no doubt be too far away to help Matt now."

The big man shrugged. "Only thing I can think of to do, Miss Kitty."

She smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry, Sam, I know you're just tryin' to help."

Haggen looked at the bartender. "It's worth a try, Sam. Can ya git started on it?"

"I sure can."

Sam quickly left and Collins looked at Festus and Kitty. "I'll send a telegram to my hospital in Baltimore, maybe someone there knows of someone out here. In the meantime, I think the two of you should stay close to him. Let him know you're here, and keep him comfortable. I'm going to go take care of the prisoner at the jail; if you need me, come get me."

He put his jacket and hat on, and quickly walked out the door. Festus and Kitty stood on either side of the table which held the marshal of Dodge, staring into each other's eyes, neither wanting to voice the fear in the room.

Festus gently picked up one of Matt's hands and then reached for one of Kitty's. She took it gratefully, and tenderly took Dillon's other hand in her remaining one.

"None of us is gonna be alone, Miss Kitty. Matthew'll know that we--"

His voice caught in his throat, the thought left dangling unvoiced, but not the sentiment. Kitty squeezed both of the hands in hers.

"Matt knows, Festus." Her voice was colored with sorrow, "He knows."


	27. Chapter 27

Collins finished wrapping the bandage around Lasky's shoulder. "Don't move around too much over the next few days, you lost some blood and need some rest."

"Ain't gonna matter much, they's prolly jist gonna hang me anyways..."

Collins put his instruments away and closed his bag. "Mr. Burke! Open this door, please!"

Burke appeared momentarily with the keys and unlocked the door, closing and locking it after Collins stepped through. The two men walked into the outer office, Burke closing the connecting door behind them, returning the keys to the peg on the wall. Collins set a packet of powders down on the desk.

"If he should experience pain, you can mix a teaspoon of this powder with a glass of water, and it should relieve it."

Collins started for the door.

"Dr. Collins?"

"Yes, Mr. Burke?"

"How's Marshal Dillon?"

Collins shook his head. "Not very well, I'm afraid."

"Is he...is he gonna die?"

"Probably, Mr. Burke."

Collins opened the door, but Burke caught his sleeve. "There isn't anything you can do?"

"I'm afraid not." Collins looked deeply into Burke's dark eyes. "My skills for this type of surgery are limited. I don't have Dr. Adams' experience, nor do I have his hands."

"You're sayin' ol' Doc could've saved him?"

Collins shrugged. "I don't know, Mr. Burke, but he might have been able to...he'd have a better chance of it than I."

Burke let go of the man's sleeve and looked down at the floor. Collins gently closed the door behind him, leaving Nathan Burke to contemplate the responsibility of the townspeople in the chain of events leading up to what would be a painful end for their U.S. Marshal.

* * *

A short time after Collins told Burke of Dillon's grave condition, most of the townspeople had gathered at the bottom of the doctor's staircase, standing vigil. Up in the office, Festus sat dejectedly in the corner of the room, Collins at his desk, and Kitty in a chair by Dillon. She slowly stroked her fingers through Matt's hair, whispering into his ear. Neither Haggen nor Collins could hear the words, but then, they didn't have to. Collins checked his watch and stood. 

"I'm going to see how Jenny and the baby are doing..."

He walked into the back bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. Kitty looked over at Festus, and the sadness in his eyes cut into her already broken heart. She stood, leaned over Matt, kissing his forehead, and then walked over to Haggen, brushing her hand over the back of his head.

"Festus..." The amber eyes looked up at her, wet with emotion, and she leaned down, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, partner, it's okay." She let go of him and knelt by his chair, taking his hand in hers. "Do you want to go sit with Matt for a little while?"

He shook his head. "That's your place, Miss Kitty. I jist wanna stay here if I can..."

She stroked his cheek. "You bet you can."

And Haggen felt guilty. Not only had he failed to save Dillon's life in the gunfight, but now Miss Kitty was having to comfort him instead of the other way around. Some part of him knew it just wasn't right. As she stood, he grabbed her hand.

"Festus?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Kitty. I shoulda been able to do somethin'...and I'm just plumb sorry." Tears spilled from her crystal blue eyes, and Haggen stood, taking her in his arms. "I didn't mean ta make ya cry none. I jist wanted you ta know is all..."

A groan from the table made them both turn in time to see Matt stirring. Festus let her go to him as he quietly sat back down in his chair. Kitty took Matt's hand in hers, sitting in her chair, pulling it as close as she could to his head. She brushed her fingers through his tangled hair.

"Shhhh...easy, cowboy. Just take it easy."

"Kitty?"

"Yes, Matt. Don't try to talk."

Dillon could feel the heaviness of his lungs, and the difficulty in drawing breath, but he forced himself. "How...bad?"

Tears stung her eyes, but she made herself smile for him. "It's bad, Matt, but Dr. Collins is taking care of you." She swallowed hard, but squeezed out the lie. "It's going to be all right. But you need to rest now."

He shook his head. "Not...all...right. Hurts..."

She leaned her lips close to his, gently pressing them together. "Shhh..."

And Matt Dillon knew.

His blue eyes stared deeply into hers. "He...can't...do anything...can he..."

It was a statement, not a question, but she answered, "He's done all he can."

The blow to Matt wasn't for himself, but for her. "I'm sorry...Kitty...I'm...so...sorry..." Emotion clogged her throat and she couldn't speak, so instead she buried her face into his neck, sobbing. "I'm sorry..." he said again, tring in vain to comfort her.

She kissed him then, and forced herself to meet his eyes. "This wasn't your fault, Matt, you did what you always do, what you thought was right. I can't blame you for that."

He felt his eyes fill, but no tear fell. "You have...the right...to...blame me...for a lot..." He smiled at her then. "I should...have...made an...honest...woman of you..."

She smiled through her tears. "No one can make an honest woman of me, Matt Dillon, not even you." He grimaced in pain, and Kitty brushed her hand through his hair again. "Easy Matt, just lie easy."

"Need...Doc..."

Kitty closed her eyes at the torment of the truth. "I know. Sam is trying to find him."

"How...long?"

"Dr. Collins isn't sure." She looked into his eyes, which were heavy with sleep. "Matt, I know you know this already, but I want to say it, just once."

"Kitty, please don't--"

"--I love you, Matt, and there's nothing in this world that will ever change that."

He held her hand tightly in his as his eyes fluttered heavily. "So much to...live for... please... get Doc..."

Dillon lost consciousness once more, and Kitty pressed her face into him, sobbing. Festus sat nearby, tears washing down his cheeks. But he didn't care. Two of the three people he loved the most in the world were suffering, and there was nothing he could do to save them from it. He leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, his own sobs joining in sorrow with Kitty's.

Haggen prayed quietly, his voice muffled by his palms. "Please Lord...you know I ain't never asked fer much, and I ain't askin' fer me now. But fer Matthew and Miss Kitty... please, don't take him. Not like this..." His body shuddered with emotion as one word uttered from his lips. "Doc..."

* * *

Clancy stepped off the stage, taking his small bag from the driver. "Do ya know whar the Doc's office is at?" 

Jim nodded toward the crowd down the street. "Up the stairs by all those folks."

"Much obliged..."

Clancy headed toward the crowd, a sense of alarm growing inside of him. As he approached he turned to one of the onlookers.

"What're y'all doin' down here?"

Halligan frowned at the interloper. "Marshal was shot. We're waitin' to hear..."

"Marshal Dillon?"

"That's him. Know him, do ya?"

"Not really, but he sent me a telegram that my wife had our baby and she's here. Upstairs there..."

"Yer Jenny O'Sullivan's husband?"

"Yes sir. Clancy O'Sullivan's the name..."

Halligan shook his hand, and then parted the crowd. "Let this here fella up them stairs, this is Jenny O'Sullivan's husband..."

The crowd dutifully parted and silently watched as he walked up the stairs and entered the office.

Festus sprang to life as soon as he heard the door open. "Here now, who do ya thank ya are?"

"I'm Clancy O'Sullivan, I come ta see my wife and son..."

"Oh, well, I guess that's okay..."

"You go through that door back there. Dr. Collins is in thar now, checkin' on her."

Clancy walked past the table and then turned to Kitty. "I'm real sorry 'bout the marshal, ma'am, folks seem to think a lot of him."

She managed a slight smile. "Yeah, yeah they do..."

Clancy walked through the bedroom door, pulling his hat off his head as he shut it behind him.

"Clancy!"

Collins looked up as a tall farmer moved in quickly, lifting his wife's upper body into a hug, kissing her hard on the mouth. After a minute or so, the doctor cleared his throat and the young couple looked up at him.

"Mr. O'Sullivan, I presume. Say hello to your son..."

Collins handed the baby to the man, who gingerly accepted it.

"My boy...he's beautiful, Jenny!" He handed the baby off to his wife then turned to the doctor, extending his hand. "Marshal's telegram said I wouldn't have no son nor my wife no more if it hadn't been fer you. I thank ya."

Collins shook the man's hand. "Just take care of them, Mr. O'Sullivan, that will be thanks enough."

"I'll pay ya, Doc, but it'll prolly take a little while."

"Don't worry about that right now, Mr. O'Sullivan. You can pay me when you have it, no rush."

Collins headed for the door.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I can see yer real busy with the marshal out there and all, but when you have the time, Asa Potter, the feller that runs the way station out at Cimarron Crossin' asked me to tell ya that when ya could, thar was an ol' feller who needed to see a doctor."

"I can see to him, but not right away. What's wrong with him?"

"Don't rightly know. Asa said he come in on the stage from Dodge nigh on three weeks ago and he had a fever and a bellyache that was makin' him awful sick."

"A stage from Dodge three weeks ago? What's this man's name..."

O'Sullivan thought for a moment, then looked at Collins. "I think Asa said his name was Adams..."


	28. Chapter 28

Festus pushed Ruth as hard as he would go, but it wasn't fast enough to suit the deputy. Cimarron was a good, four-hour ride, but Haggen was trying to shorten it by an hour, providing Ruth could keep up the breakneck pace. Clancy O'Sullivan had warned Festus that the talk in town was that Adams had been very ill, and it was doubtful that the old man would be up to a hard ride in the dark between Cimarron and Dodge. But Festus had given his word to Miss Kitty that he would bring Doc back in time to save Matthew, and he had no intention of breaking it.

He spurred the mule again. "Come on, Ruth; everything's ridin' on you and me."

* * *

As the sun began to set over the Cimarron sky, she found him outside, chopping wood. "Galen! What are you doing?" 

"We needed some wood for the stove."

She looked over at the large pile on the ground. "I think you have enough to last through next winter." He met her eyes, and she could see the hardness in them. Having awakened alone on the bed, she could surmise the reason for it. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He swung the ax, splitting another log. "I don't recall sayin' I was upset."

She watched him swing the ax again, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Galen. You just looked so alone lying there--"

He glared at her, his voice tinged with indignation, although which of them he was truly angry at he didn't know. "--It's not proper, a woman lyin' next to a man who isn't her husband." He returned his attention to the job at hand, splitting another log. "I'm grateful to ya for everything you've done, but there are some things a gentleman just can't--"

Her hands landed on top of his, preventing him from swinging the ax. "--Stop, Galen. Just stop and look at me." She pulled the ax from his hands, setting it on the ground. "I don't think you've been out here choppin' wood for the past two hours because you're afraid of what _I_ might do to your gentlemanly honor." He looked away from her, and she pulled his face back to hers with her hand. "I think you're afraid of what you're feeling."

He swallowed hard, his anger falling completely away. "I'm ashamed, Elsie. I'm a-- I was a doctor; a mature professional, I know better than to react to a woman like some 20-year old cowboy--"

She brushed his cheek with her hand. quieting him. "You're a man, Galen, with all the desires and wants of a man. You just haven't let yourself feel as a man for a long time; you've kept that part of you hidden behind your medical career." She looked down at his blistered hands, rubbing the palms lightly. "You don't have the hands of a doctor anymore; they're the hands of a working man now. Don't be afraid to let the rest of you follow..." He smiled at her then, and she smiled back. "Come on, supper's ready. Come and eat while it's hot; you must have worked up quite an appetite out here."

They walked hand in hand into the house, both knowing that food wasn't the only thing he'd worked up an appetite for...

* * *

Kitty remained unmoving in the chair by the exam table, holding Matt's hand. Collins glanced at his watch, then stood, and walked over to her. He placed a soft hand on her shoulder. 

"Kitty, you should get a little rest. I'll sit with the marshal."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not leavin' him." She glanced up at the doctor and noted his tired eyes. "But you look like you could use some sleep."

"No, I'm fine." They stared at each other, and finally he said, "I'll make a pot of coffee."

Kitty brushed a hand over Matt's forehead, kissing him lightly. "Hold on, Matt, just hold on." She looked back at the doctor, her voice trembling slightly, "Do you think they'll make back here in time?"

His mouth pulled into a grim line. "I honestly don't know, Kitty. I pray so."

* * *

From the big leather chair near the fireplace, he watched her washing the supper dishes at the sink, and he smiled. She felt his eyes on her and turned around, an expectant grin tugging her lips. 

His voice was husky and soft, "Come here."

He held out his hand to her, and she removed her apron and walked over to him, taking his hand. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. For a long moment he stared into her eyes, confirming that he had her consent, before he gently pulled her head toward his, kissing her softly on the mouth.

His comfortable blue eyes smiled at her. "I've wanted to do that for a long while now," he whispered, "a long while."

When she smiled at him, he put his hands on either side of her face, and kissed her lips lightly at first, then opened his mouth to hers more boldly.

She brushed his cheek softly with her hand. "You look a little tired, Galen. Why don't we go to bed?"

He stared intently at her, not trusting that he had quite heard her correctly, but he could see from the seductive smile on her lips, that he had. "We?"

"Unless you'd rather we continue sleeping in separate rooms, _Mr._ Adams..."

He laughed lightly then. "No, I don't believe that I would."

Entwining her arms around his neck, she leaned down, and kissed him deeply, causing him to moan softly. His arms wrapped tightly around her, crushing her body down onto his, an instinct he thought long dead rising to the surface. She gently broke free, and taking his hand, led him to the bedroom.

* * *

Elsie pressed herself firmly against him, softly rubbing his back, although he had long ago drifted off into the first contented sleep he'd had in years. Her hand moved up to the thick curls on the back of his head, and she tenderly kissed his neck while he slept. The sudden pounding on the front door, caused her to start. Covering him with a blanket, Elsie quickly arose, put her robe on and headed into the other room, closing the bedroom door behind her in the hopes that he would stay asleep. She stood at the secured front door. 

"Who is it?" She demanded.

"My name's Festus Haggen, ma'am. Asa Potter done tolt me that you'd been takin' care of Doc Adams fer awhile, and I need ta see him right away..."

Panic filled her eyes: it was her worse nightmare come calling. One of the three people he considered family from his old life, someone who could possibly take Galen away from her, was standing on her front porch in the middle of the night, demanding to see him. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she opened the door.

"Who'd ya say you were lookin' for?"

"Doc Adams, ma'am. Asa Potter said you'd been carin' fer him. I knowed it's late, ma'am, but I need to see him right away. There wuz a shootin' in Dodge, and the marshal's gonna die if'n I don't git Doc to him." She stared at Haggen as though she didn't understand, so he added, "It's Matthew Dillon, ma'am, he's a good friend of ol' Doc's, and he ain't gonna make it if'n we don't hurry."

Elsie stared hard into the frantic amber eyes, while shouting down her better angels. For as sorry as she felt for these people she didn't know, this man standing on her porch was saying that he intended to take Galen back to his old life, just as their new one was beginning; and she knew in her heart that Adams would go. Even though he had said he was no longer a doctor, she knew it was in his blood; he wouldn't hesitate to give his own life to save someone who needed him. And surely he'd give up his own happiness to save the man he thought of as a son; once the people of Dodge had him back, her gut instinct told her that they'd never let him go again. As far as Elsie was concerned, it came down to a choice between the happiness of people from Galen's past, or their own, newfound happiness.

She looked calmly into Haggen's tired face, and said, "I'm sorry...Mr. Haggen, was it? Mr. Adams left here about ten days ago."

"He's gone? Mr. Potter made it sound like ol' Doc was hurtin' too bad to go nowhere..."

She shrugged. "He was better, Mr. Haggen, and he didn't want to stay."

The crestfallen look on Haggen's face almost made Elsie change her mind, but she remained silent. "Do ya know where he was headed, ma'am?"

"He didn't say, Mr. Haggen."

And then it hit the deputy: if Doc had been on a stage, or bought a horse, Asa Potter would have known. His left eye squinted at her slightly. "Did you give him a horse, ma'am?"

"No, I don't raise horses, Mr. Haggen."

"I see." He stared hard into her, trying to stall. "Mind if I water my mule afore I go?"

"Suit yourself, Mr. Haggen..."

* * *

Galen Adams thought he had heard a familiar voice in his sleep. He quickly rolled out of bed, and put his pants and shirt on, his heart racing with unfounded anxiety. Then he heard Elsie say that he'd left ten days ago, which didn't make a bit of sense. He walked out of the bedroom, trying to do up the buttons on his shirt. 

"Elsie? Elsie, who in tarnation's at the door at this hour?"

Haggen glared at the woman for a moment, then pushed past her. "Doc? Doc!"

Adams stared at the deputy, and was momentarily frozen by the deep emotions shooting through him. "Festus?" He looked at his friend's face and eyes, and felt his stomach drop to his knees. "Festus, what's wrong old boy?"

Haggen closed the distance between them. "Doc, it's Matthew...he's been shot up real bad."

Festus shuttered slightly on his feet, and Adams grabbed a hold of him tightly, gently sitting him in a chair. "Oh Festus, you've practically killed yourself gettin' here." Then he saw the bandage under the deputy's hat, and Doc pulled the hat off. "What happened?"

"Bullet grazed me, Doc, but it ain't nothin'." Haggen's voice was almost a pleading sob, "Please Doc, we gotta go to Dodge. Matthew's gonna die unless you help him..."

Adams inspected the wound on his friend's head, then looked into his amber eyes. "Where in the hell is Dr. Collins?"

"He says he ain't got 'sperience enough with bullet wounds to save him, Doc. You do." Festus felt the tears fall from his eyes, but he didn't care. "Yer the only one who can save him, Doc..."

Elsie looked on with dread as Adams put his hands on either side of Haggen's face, gently wiping the tears running down his cheeks. "You just calm down, Festus: you know damned well I'd do anything for Matt. You got a horse fer me?" The deputy nodded, and Adams said, "Let me get the rest of my clothes on, and we'll go right now."

Haggen swallowed hard, barely able to find his voice, "Oh Doc..."

Before Festus could say anything more, Doc pulled him from the chair. "Can ya give me a minute or so, ol' boy?"

Haggen looked over at the woman whose tears told a different story from his own and he nodded. "Yessum. I'll be outside." As he walked by Elsie, he nodded to her. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but it couldn't be no other way..."

As quietly as he could, Festus walked through the door, closing it softly behind him. The stony silence that filled the room while Adams stared in horror at the woman he thought he had fallen in love with, was overpowering. Elsie couldn't meet his gaze, and stared at the floor. Finally he walked over to her, and stopped within inches of her, but didn't touch her.

His deep voice belied betrayal and the most profound kind of hurt, "Why?"

Her eyes slowly raised to meet his, yet she could barely look into the abyss of pale blue. "I waited so long to find you, I couldn't bear to lose you," she said simply.

"What made you think you were gonna lose me?"

"I knew you'd leave with Mr. Haggen. I knew you'd go back to Dodge, to your old life, your old friends--"

He grabbed her hard by the arms, shaking her. "--A man's life depends upon my goin' back to Dodge." The bloodthirsty anger in his eyes frightened her. "You were willing to let him die to keep me here..."

Tears of desolation rolled down her cheeks. "I didn't want him to die, Galen, but I knew I'd lose you to him forever, whether you can save him or not."

He shook his head in disgust, his voice unleashing a fury she didn't think he possessed. "How little you understand me; I'm a doctor and someone came here asking for my help. My own son, or a perfect stranger, it makes no difference who needs me, I go where I'm called. That's who I am, it's in the very fabric of my soul." He let go of her roughly, and spat out, "In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art, and above all else, I will not play God." He glared at her with indignation. "And neither will you."

And Galen Adams realized that he had meant it, every word of it. He had never stopped being a doctor, he had just fallen prey to the man he had forsaken: but the physician within had not given up possession of his soul.

He looked at Elsie in deep sadness and regret. "I'm sorry you didn't trust me enough to give me the choice of comin' back to you."

"You wouldn't have come back here."

He shrugged. "I might have. Now we'll never know."

He grabbed his hat, vest and coat, and then stopped in front of her again, staring hard into her eyes, as tears spilled over her cheeks like a waterfall after a storm.

Her voice was broken, "I lost you the moment he showed up here."

"No, Elsie. You lost me the moment you placed more value on your own happiness than a man's life."

Doc yanked his hat down on his head, opened the door, and walked out, closing it quietly behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

Collins held Matt's wrist while looking at his watch, and he could feel Kitty's eyes on him. He closed the watch, gently set the marshal's hand down, and met her expectant stare.

"It's a little weaker than it was a few hours ago."

Kitty wasn't surprised, but even so, it hurt to hear it spoken. "What are his chances now?"

Collins shook his head. "I'm not sure, Kitty. At this point, I'd have to say they're pretty slim. But then, most ordinary men wouldn't have survived this long." He looked at his watch again. "Festus has been gone about five and half hours now, so if he found Doc Adams, they should be on their way in from Cimarron right now."

Kitty closed her eyes for a moment, then looked down at Dillon, brushing his cheek with her hand. "Even if Doc gets here, it'd take a miracle, wouldn't it?"

He debated internally for a moment, then decided she deserved the truth. He squeezed her shoulder softly. "I'm afraid that it would, yes."

Kitty couldn't keep the tears from quietly rolling down her face as she stared at the man who was unquestionably the love of her life. She couldn't imagine life in Dodge without Matt in it, and she didn't want to. It had been hard enough losing Doc; and she wasn't in love with him. She gently gripped Dillon's hand in her own, willing her own stalwart strength into his failing body. She continued stroking his hair with her other hand, and leaned into his ear.

"Please Matt, hang on a little bit longer. Doc's on his way, and you know how he is...if you're not here when he arrives, he'll strut around like a banty rooster, screamin' about how no one appreciates his efforts." She kissed Dillon's forehead softly. "Stay with me, cowboy."

* * *

Festus had never felt so exhausted, and he was pretty damned sure that Ruth wasn't far behind him, but still he pushed the trail. He looked back and realized that Doc was dragging more and more. Haggen pulled up on his reins, and waited for the old man to catch up. 

"Doc? You need to take a little rest, do ya?"

Adams shook his head. "No, let's keep going, Festus."

Haggen stared the old doctor down a bit. "You're lookin' mighty peaky, Doc; that feller Asa Potter done said you wuz terrible sick." His voice grew quiet, "He said ya almost died."

"I'm fine, and we don't have the time to spare," Adams growled.

Haggen knew that was the truth, but he also couldn't deny that Doc's condition had deteriorated with each mile since they left Cimarron; however, it was clear that the ol' scudder wasn't about to give in to it without one hell of a fight. Silently, Festus spurred Ruth into motion, once again heading toward Dodge. He just prayed they would make it in time, and that Doc wouldn't be so worn out himself, that he'd be unable to help Matt.

* * *

The people of Dodge sat all along Front Street, waiting. Some of them weren't sure exactly what it was they were waiting for: Dillon to die, or Doc to arrive. But wait they did. Sam Noonan kept the pots of coffee rolling from the Longbranch, and Barney would occasionally wander over and report that there had been no telegram regarding Doc or Festus. Burke paced in front of the jail, Halligan and Louie sitting in the chairs outside. Agnes Oxmoor stood with her arms folded in front of her, hovering near the general store. 

There had been no word. None from the doctor's office, and none from Cimarron. They were without information, and with each passing hour, diminishing hope.

* * *

About an hour out of Dodge, Festus looked back behind him, and started: he saw Doc's horse, but Adams was no longer seated on it. He pulled Ruth up, turned, and raced the distance to the abandoned gelding... 


	30. Chapter 30

Festus collected the reins of Doc's horse in his hand, and squinted, trying to scan the prairie for the downed physician, but it was a moonless night. He finally heard Doc before he could see him. Haggen jumped off Ruth, and headed toward the sounds of dry-heaving. He knelt next to the old man, scared to death.

"Doc? Doc...whut is it?"

Adams groaned in between wretching, clutching his burning stomach. "It's my belly, Festus..."

Festus felt Doc's forehead, which had broken out in a sweat. "Doc, yer feverin' a mite; whut can I do?"

Adams sounded like he was going to choke, but then took a large breath of air. "Have to let it run its course, and hope it stops soon."

Haggen sat next to Doc for what seemed like an eternity, and after what was in real time about fifteen minutes, the seige came to a halt. Exhausted, Adams breathed heavily, seemingly weak enough to fall over in a light breeze. Festus rubbed his hand over the old man's back for a few minutes, and then said what needed to be said.

"Doc...I know ya ain't feelin' good, but if ya thank ya can do it, we gotta git movin'..."

Adams nodded, still holding his belly with one hand. "Help me up, ol'boy, and get me on my horse."

Haggen pulled Doc up, and the old man practically fell against him. "Steady, Doc, I gotcha." He let Adams lean on him for a second or so, and when the doctor didn't try to move, he prompted, "Doc?"

"I'm a little dizzy. It's just rapid blood loss, I'll be okay in a minute."

"Yer bleedin'?"

"I'm bleedin' in my belly, Festus. Look, just get me up on my horse, and let's get going."

Frowning and afraid for Doc's safety, but knowing Dillon would die if they didn't hurry, Haggen practically lifted Adams onto the horse, handing him the reins. "Doc? Do you wanna double up with me? That way you can lean on me and close yer eyes awhile."

Adams shook his head. "It'd just slow us down."

Haggen let out a long sigh of air and muttered, "We're gonna be a mite slow anyway, ya danged ol' scudder..."

The two men once again moved in the direction of Dodge.


	31. Chapter 31

Kitty had been resting her head next to Matt's on his pillow, when she started awake. It took her a second to realize that it was a sound which had awakened her: the sound of footfalls on the staircase. She rubbed her eyes, and looked over at Collins, who was dozing in the desk chair.

She stood and gently shook his shoulder. "Hannibal...wake up, they're here."

Collins' eyes popped open and he made himself busy checking the table with all the possible instruments he thought Doc Adams might need, then he topped off the basin with alcohol, and straightened the towel next to the basin with soap and water. He turned to face the door just as it opened. Doc Adams walked in, and wasted no time. He took his hat and jacket off, putting them on the coat rack by the door, then looked at Collins as he began to roll up his sleeves.

"Doctor? What's the situation?"

Understanding that any pleasantries or introductions would come later, Collins answered, "There are two entry wounds, doctor, both in the chest. The first bullet was near his heart, but I managed to get that one out, and there's no sign of infection on that wound. It's the second bullet that was the problem. It entered the chest, ricocheted off his sternum--"

"--Is the sternum shattered?" Adams began to wash his hands in the basin with the soap and water.

"Not shattered, but fractured, with splinters in his lung tissue." Adams nodded and Collins continued, "The bullet has lodged itself between the spine, fourth rib and the walls of the aveoli."

Doc looked up at the man. "Is it near the pulmonary artery?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Which lobe is down?"

"Right."

"How long?"

"Close to 15 hours."

"Damn. And you couldn't extract it..."

Collins realized it was a comment on the difficulty and not a criticism. "No sir." He looked into Adams eyes then, his voice hopeful, "But with your experience..." The dubious look on Doc's face silenced the man before he finished the thought.

Adams put his glasses on and took a hold of Matt's wrist, looking at his watch. Frowning he put his stethoscope in his ears and listened; the big man's pulse was dangerously slow and weak, and Adams felt a moment of silent panic; but the calm façade of years of surgery remained outwardly in place, as he lifted one of Dillon's eyelids, checking pupil response. Kitty had said not a word, determined to let Doc do what he needed in order to save Matt's life, but the pallor and weight loss of her old friend added to her terror. Festus stood next to the desk chair Kitty was sitting in, silently observing Adams, wondering how long the man would be able to tolerate the miserable belly Haggen knew he was suffering with. Dillon stirred, moaning in pain, and Doc put a calming hand on his friend's forehead, taking hold of Matt's large hand with his other.

"It's all right, Matt, just take it easy."

Dillon's voice was raspy from the collapsed lung, "Doc?"

"Yes, it's Doc." He brushed his hand soothingly on Dillon's forehead. "I don't want you to try and talk, Matt--"

"--Doc..." Dillon's voice barely whispered, "please, Doc..."

"Shhhhh..." Doc continued the gentle stroking of the lawman's brow. "You hush, Matt, and you relax fer me."

Dillon shook his head, trying in vain to pull Doc closer. "No...please..." Adams leaned down toward Dillon's mouth to hear him. "I can't...die...Doc, can't...do that...to _her_."

Adams felt his eyes rush with tears, and he had to blink them back as he looked deeply into Matt's barely coherent ones. The doctor's voice filled with unrestrained emotion, "You're not gonna die, my boy, because I'm not gonna letcha." He briefly looked over at the woman whom they both loved, each in his own way. "I can't put her through that either." Adams pulled away slightly, and looked over at Collins, who had suddenly realized how tightly-knit these people truly were. "Ether, please, doctor," Adams ordered. Doc continued to stroke Matt's forehead as Collins put the mask with ether-soaked cotton over the marshal's nose and mouth. "Go to sleep now, Matt, and when you wake up, everything'll be okay." The two men's eyes locked on each other, even as Dillon's were becoming droopy, and Doc answered the unvoiced question. "If this doesn't go our way my boy, you have my solemn word: nothin'll happen to her as long as I'm alive, I promise you that."

Dillon lost consciousness, and Adams wasted no time removing the temporary bandage and stitches Collins had put over Dillon's sternum.

"Probe."

Collins handed Doc the probe, and watched in fascination as Adams expertly manipulated the instrument down through layers of tissue until he located the piece of lead. Adams removed the probe, dropping it into a nearby basin filled with alcohol.

"I'm gonna start removing the bone fragments."

"Before the bullet?"

"Yes before the bullet," Adams growled, "unless you wanna take a chance on dislodging some of 'em when you extract the damned thing. No tellin' where they'd travel to..." He stared hard at Collins for a second then barked, "Tweezers."

Without another word, Collins handed the man the instruments he called for, and with fast precision. Kitty felt a slight pride bubble up in her as she observed Collins staring at Doc with an adoration and respect of a student toward a beloved mentor. But even with Doc's experience, there was no way to know if Matt would survive; she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, and momentarily felt Haggen's comforting hand on her shoulder. Without looking at him, she patted his hand, leaving hers on top of his. Whatever the outcome, they would face it together. It was a small comfort, but the only one she had to cling to...

* * *

The townspeople had remained in an all night vigil at the bottom of Doc's stairs, but as the sun began to peek above the eastern horizon of the plains, there was yet to be any word. Sam Noonan dutifully carried another pot of coffee and a tray full of cups out onto Front Street, for anyone who wanted it. Never one to miss the aroma of a fresh brew in the morning, Louie was the first one to approach Sam and take a cup. He held the mug in both shaky hands as Noonan poured the steaming liquid for him. 

"Doc didn't look so good when they got here last night, Sam."

Noonan sighed in concern. "No, Louie, he really didn't. Word from Clancy O'Sullivan is that Doc has been an awful sick man."

Pheeters glanced up toward the second floor above the general store and then turned back to face the bartender. "Whaddya 'spose is goin' on up there?"

Sam's dark eyes flicked up to the top of the stairs. "The saving of a man's life, I hope."

It sounded like such a simple thing, the saving of a life; yet both men understood that this time Matt Dillon's survival was not only going to take every last bit of Doc Adams' considerable skill, but also the benevolent hand of the Almighty.

The small man began to shake slightly with emotion. "If I could, Sam, I'd trade places with the marshal in a second. He's such an important man to Dodge, and I'm just a bum." His eyes filled with moisture. "Why couldn't it have been someone else, Sam? Why'd it have to be him?"

Sam had to swallow down his own deep regard. "I don't know why it was him, Louie, but I do know that Marshal Dillon wouldn't have wanted to see anyone get hurt in that gunfight, and that includes you." Sam smiled at the disheveled little man. "He's rather fond of you, you know..."

Noonan moved to the next person who wanted coffee, and didn't hear Louie say, "There ain't none better than him." He walked back toward the jail saying, "There ain't none better..."


	32. Chapter 32

Collins stood next to Adams watching the man fight with the bullet lodged in the marshal's lung. Doc's upper arm flexed with strain as he re-gripped the forceps, once again trying to free the piece of lead. He gritted his teeth, and with restrained strength, tried to carefully and slowly extract the bullet. And yet again, it slipped from his grasp. He looked down at Dillon and didn't see the rise and fall of the man's chest.

"Damn it!" Doc threw the forceps into the basin of alcohol, and put his stethoscope against Dillon's chest, listening intently for a beat, but there wasn't one. "No, Matt!" He carefully pressed on Dillon's chest, over his heart, compressing as gently as he could without ripping open the stitches Collins had put there not 24 hours before. He tilted Matt's head back slightly, clearing his airway, and rubbed his hand directly over the heart. "Come on, Matt. Come on, son. Don't you quit on me now!" He kept compressing gently on Matt's chest until he saw respiration begin agaom. Once more he listened with the stethoscope, and then let out the breath he'd been holding as he heard a slow but steady heartbeat. "My God that was close," his voice was thick with emotion, "it was just too damned close..."

Doc threw the stethoscope aside, reaching for the burning pain in his belly, trying desperately to cover the grimace on his face. He ran his other hand over his face and through his hair, letting out a long sigh of air, trying to regain his composure. Kitty clamped a hand over her mouth, afraid that she would only exacerbate an already emotionally-charged situation if she allowed her cry of fear to escape. Festus took her other hand in his, gently caressing it to calm her. Adams leaned both of his hands on the table, by Matt's side, his head hanging in exhaustion. Collins gently wiped the old man's brow of the perspiration that had beaded there, and realized Adams was running a fever.

He tried to keep his voice neutral and unchallenging, "Doctor, you feel terribly warm."

Adams shook his head. "It's nothing...perfectly normal for me during surgery."

One of Collins' eyebrows arched in disbelief, but he let the comment go for the time-being. Without a word he wet a cloth with cold water, stood slightly behind Doc's left shoulder and pressed it into the old doctor's forehead with his left hand, while softly rubbing Doc's neck with his other. Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty caught Haggen observing Doc with great concern, and it confirmed her suspicion.

She pulled him down toward her, and whispered, "Festus? What's wrong with Doc?"

He knelt next to her. "I don't know whutcha mean, ma'am..."

Her voice remained quiet, but her eyes were lit with fire, "Don't you lie to me, Festus Haggen. I want the truth, and I want it right now."

"You heard Clancy O'Sullivan tell it, Miss Kitty, Doc wuz awful sick when he got ta Cimarron--"

"--You know something more than that, and you'd better tell me, right now."

His amber eyes darkened. "The ol' scudder had a tough time of it on the way back, Miss Kitty, and wull, thangs wasn't the easiest on him when we done left Cimarron."

Understanding dawned in Kitty's eyes as a thought occured to her. "That woman Clancy mentioned..."

He nodded. "The widey Tucker, yessum. Near as I could tell, she and Doc, wull...they were... they wuz a-courtin-like, and when he found out that she tried ta git rid o' me even though I tolt her ol' Matthew was in need, he got awful mad. I ain't never seen him so mad." Haggen looked into her crystal eyes. "Out on the trail he took real sick, poor ol' scudder was spittin' up blood somethin' fierce fer awhile. His belly's hurtin' him somethin' awful, Miss Kitty, how he's made it this fer, I jist don't know."

She glanced over at Adams, who looked suddenly frail to her; yet as he came to a decision, he shook free of Collins' grip with determination, and washed his hands once again in the basin.

Collins stared at him. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna get that bullet outta there."

"I'll sterilize the small forceps."

"No."

Collins looked sharply at him. "No?"

"I want the probe."

"The probe?"

"Just get it fer me," Adams growled.

As Doc stepped up once more to the table, Collins picked up the probe and wiped it down with alcohol-soaked gauze. Wordlessly he handed Adams the instrument, and looked on in amazement as the old sawbones stuck it into the wound, and began wiggling it, trying to dislodge the bullet from the bone. After several long minutes, the lead broke free, and using the probe like a scoop, Adams gently moved the bullet up through the layers of tissue. When he had it dangerously near the pulmonary artery, he held it there, his hands as steady as anything Collins had ever seen.

"Dr. Collins, would you hand me the forceps please?"

Collins placed the forceps in Adams' outstretched left hand, and watched the man gently grip the bullet, slowly and carefully extracting it the rest of the way, not even coming close to nicking the big artery. Doc tossed the instrument with the bullet into the basin.

"Okay," he said exhaling a breath of air, "Dr. Collins, can you take care of the ligatures to close up these tears I just made in here before he loses any more blood?" Collins felt like a frightened schoolboy, and for a moment, didn't move. "Well come on, boy, get in here and get it done, I'll keep my eye on ya." Collins began tying off the bleeding blood vessels using small pieces of sterilized thread, with Adams looking over his shoulder, guiding him. "When you tie off a small one like that, Collins, use your left hand like a counterbalance as you tighten it with your right; you don't want it lettin' go after you've closed him up."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now this one here. Okay." Adams looked at his new charge over the rim of his glasses. "Let's double check the tissue and make sure I got all the bone fragments out of the lung. One of those left in there could kill him."

The two surgeons carefully but thoroughly examined the tissue, and determining that Adams had removed all of the fragments, they began to close the wound. After the last stitch was tied, the wound sterilized and a bandage wrapped tightly over it, Adams checked the marshal's pulse and heartbeat, and then softly covered him with a blanket. He pulled his glasses off as he stepped away from the table, and he could feel her eyes on him. Adams hadn't said a word to her since he'd walked into the room, and now he didn't know how to say what was in his heart. He looked affectionately at her, as he put his glasses in the case, and the case into his vest pocket.

Her voice shook with fear, "Doc?"

His timbre was full of soft love, "I don't know, honey. It's kinda up to Matt now, but he's been through so much and lost so darn much blood...well, he's awful weak."

Kitty nodded, looking down to try and stave off her tears. But when she continued to feel the sea of pale blue holding her, she met his eyes, and the emotion she found there melted the last of her ability to maintain a brave front. She stood then, and went to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, gently patting her back.

"Here now..." She sobbed into him, holding him so tightly he almost couldn't breathe. "It's all right, honey, it's all right." For a long time, she wept so hard he wasn't sure she'd survive it, and each sob cut into him like a blade. He rubbed his hand over lower back. "You need to calm down fer me, baby, just calm down."

Her grip on him didn't loosen in the least, but finally she said, "You'll never know how much I missed you, Doc. When Matt was shot, I was so terrified, and you weren't here, and I felt lost." She laced her fingers through the overgrown wave of curls on the back of his head. "Promise me you won't ever leave Dodge again; that you won't ever leave me again..."

"Oh honey, I never left you. You're in my heart always, Kitty, don't you know that? You, Matt and that scruffy deputy over there. A day didn't go by when I didn't think of the three of you--" His voice broke with emotion, exhaustion and a familiar burning pain.

Kitty pulled away slightly to look into his wet eyes. "Festus told me what happened." The sea of light blue flashed sadness, and she ran her hand over his cheek. "I'm sorry, Doc. I'm sorry for all of it." He grimaced in pain then, and she gently sat him in the desk chair, calling for the young doctor, "Dr. Collins..."

Collins came quickly to Adams' side, kneeling next to him. "Dr. Adams?"

Adams let out a breath of air. "Duodenal ulcer. Started bleedin' the day I left Dodge."

"Fever, vomiting and blood loss?" Adams nodded, and Collins shook his head. "You haven't given it much time to heal, and you're running a fever again. You took an awful chance coming here--"

Adams stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I knew the risks, and I'd do it again. Just gimme somethin' fer the pain, will ya?"

Collins pat his shoulder as he stood. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle with chalky liquid. He poured some into a glass, and handed it to Adams, who drank it down quickly. Kitty stood by him, softly rubbing a hand over his shoulders until his face started to relax as the medicine helped ease him. Collins stepped away, and Kitty followed him, lowering her voice so Doc couldn't hear.

"Is he going to be all right?"

"He should be, with some rest and a careful diet. And I'd suggest that the good citizens of Dodge try and treat him a little gentler from now on."

She looked sharply at him. "It sounds like you're givin' up your practice here."

"He could have killed himself getting here, Kitty, much less performing this type of surgery on a close friend in his condition; that was not just dedication to an oath he took." He looked over at the old man and added, "He loves all of you very deeply, and from what I've witnessed, it's mutual."

"He's got a lot invested in the people of this town, although I wouldn't blame him if he were so mad he told them all to jump in a lake." She looked back at him. "Will you go back to Baltimore?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't do that after what I've seen here." She frowned at him and he explained, "There's a real need out here for doctors and surgeons," he nodded toward Adams, "at least for ones like him. I can't think of anything better to aspire to than that, can you?"

She pat his arm. "I think you're well on your way, Hannibal."

"I'm going to go check on the O'Sullivan's at the Dodge House, and then I think I'll stop by Delmonico's and ask to have some food sent up here -- Doc's will be all the white food: milk, baked potato, chicken with nothing on it...although I suspect you might have to hog-tie him to get him to eat it!"

Kitty laughed at that, and he put his hat and coat on, opening the door. He stepped out onto the landing and saw the entire town of Dodge standing there, looking up at him expectantly.

"How's the marshal?" Burke yelled up at him.

"He's still alive, Mr. Burke." He glared hard at the people from whom he had heard the most foul gossip about a man he very quickly learned to admire. "He's alive because of Doc Adams."

Several people looked down, unable to meet his stare.

Louie yelled, "Is Marshal Dillon gonna be okay?"

"I don't know, Mr. Pheeters, it's too soon to tell." He looked at all of them again, moving down the stairs. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a young mother and her son to look in on."

"Hey, Dr. Collins," Halligan called, "is Doc back for good?"

Collins glared at the man. "You'd have to ask him, Mr. Halligan. But I know if it were me, I'd have to think long and hard about whether or not I wanted to return to a town that had run me out on a stage because I didn't have the power of the Almighty." He stared through the crowd. "You all think on that for awhile."

He walked down Front Street, black bag in hand, heading toward the Dodge House.

"Huh," snorted Burke, "What's eatin' him?" Several of the townspeople glared at Burke as they moved off. "What? I was just sayin'..."

Louie Pheeters looked up at the second floor above the general store as the crowd slowly dissipated, and he wondered just how bad off the marshal of Dodge was...


	33. Chapter 33

Carrying two cups of coffee from the stove, Kitty stopped by the table where Matt was still unconscious, and for a moment she observed the steady rise and fall of his chest; but he had yet to even stir and it worried her. She walked a few more steps to the desk, and handed a mug to Doc, who was sitting in the chair. He gratefully took the cup from her and sipped at it, although he knew damned well it wasn't the smartest thing he could do for his ulcer. She sat next to him, and sipped her own. Adams continued to stare at the man lying on the table, as if that could somehow make Matt better, but the concern lining Doc's face was more than evident to anyone watching.

Her voice was soft, "You're worried."

He didn't look at her, but took another sip of coffee. "Yeah," was all he said.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

He shrugged. "Matt lost a lot of blood, Kitty, I'd expect him to stay unconscious for awhile."

"Then what has you so tied up in knots?" He shrugged again, taking another sip of his coffee. "Matt's a strong man, Doc. Dr. Collins said any other man would have died long before you and Festus got here. He's a doctor and he said so."

The fact that she was trying to convince herself so strongly that Matt was going to be all right tore at his heart, for he couldn't promise her that it would be so. "Matt had to wait a long time with that bullet in him, and his lung compromised; it weakened him somethin' terrible, Kitty. I've done everything I can, and now..." His voice trailed off, unwilling to say anymore.

She set her mug down on the desk and brushed her fingers through the curls on the back of his head. "And you don't know how it's going to turn out."

"That's right, I don't."

"And it's scaring the hell out of you because you can't control this any more than you could the Waters twins, Cory Rogers or Lucy."

His voice was vulnerable, "But this time it's Matt...I just don't think I could live with it if--"

"--That's enough. Nothing's gonna happen to him. He's gonna pull through this, Doc." Tears filled her eyes. "He has everything to live for, and he knows it. And I don't want to hear anything more about Matt dyin'!"

Adams looked away sharply, and Kitty realized that it had just been his exhaustion and fear talking, and she felt guilty that she yelled at him. She rose then, and stood behind his chair, gently squeezing the taunt muscles in his shoulders.

"Why don't you take a rest, Doc? I can sit with Matt." She looked over at Haggen, who was sound asleep in a chair. "Or Festus can if he doesn't sleep through everything."

Adams glanced over at the deputy. "That poor ol' boy practically killed himself gettin' to Cimarron and back, I'm not surprised he's asleep."

"And he's not the only one who needs it, according to Dr. Collins."

He felt himself relax slightly in response to the gentle attention she was giving him, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Dr. Collins is a young whelp doctor; who are you going to believe: me, an experienced physician, or him, a mere babe in the woods?"

"Him, since you accepted the cup of coffee I offered you. You know damned well you shouldn't drink it."

"Well if ya knew that, why'd ya offer me any?"

"To see if I could trust you, which I can't!" She felt his muscles letting go of tension with each stroke of her hand. "You're just a cranky ol' bear, ya know..."

"Hmph...and don't you ferget it!" Her hands moved up to his neck, and then her fingers tugged at the ends of his curls, and he could feel his eyelids becoming heavy with the pull of sleep. "Bet you thought you were gonna soft-soap me, didn'tcha..."

"Seems to be workin' okay, curly."

His voice sounded sleepy, "I need a haircut, don't I?"

"And a shave, but first, you need some sleep." A grin pulled at her lips. "Or maybe I'll just cut your hair and shave you _while_ you're asleep..."

He pulled away from her then, glaring. "Not on your life! I'd come out lookin' like I'd been scalped by Indians, and probably with a crooked mustache ta boot. You just stay away from me with anything sharp, Mrs. Lovett..."

She laughed at that, leaned in, and kissed the side of his head. "You'd have no mustache at all if it were up to me, handsome."

The voice from the table was stronger than expected, and its annoyance was clear,"How're the sick supposed to get any sleep around here with the two of you carryin' on?"

Adams grinned widely, and responded, "It don't seem to be botherin' Festus none, _Mr_. Marshal..."

Doc and Kitty moved to the table, Adams checking Matt's pulse, and Kitty taking his hand in hers.

Dillon grinned slightly. "Glad you made it back, Doc."

Adams brushed a soft hand through the marshal's hair. "Me too, Matt." He held his hand over Dillon's brow, checking for fever, but there was none. "How do you feel?"

"Tired and weak. Say, this hurts a lot...what'd you dig that bullet out with, a shovel?"

But instead of playful fire, Doc's voice was soft and caring, "It's gonna be like that awhile, my boy; it was awful close."

Dillon looked at the redhead standing next to him, tears in her eyes, her hand holding his tightly. He nodded toward Adams. "Ya had him goin' pretty good there for awhile..."

She nodded. "I learned how to get Doc's goat from the best." She kissed his hand. "You scared me, cowboy."

He grinned at her, squeezing her hand. "Didn't sound like it listenin' to the two of you just now..."

"I had to do somethin' to keep Doc from feelin' sorry for himself..."

Adams pat Dillon's shoulder. "Don't you believe it, Matt. I wasn't worried 'bout you at all..."

"Uh-huh." Dillon reached up and brushed a tear from Doc's cheek. "I can see that..."

Embarrassed, Doc ran a hand over his face and pat Matt's shoulder again. "I'm gonna get a breath of air fer a minute..."

He headed toward the door, and Kitty leaned in to Matt, tenderly kissing his mouth. "Welcome back, Matt."

He kissed her harder. "If I'd known it was gonna be this kind of reception, I would've come around earlier..."

Exhausted, his eyes fluttered closed, and Kitty kissed his forehead, gently adjusting the blanket covering him. She looked toward the door, and saw Doc milling on the landing.

Louie yelled up to the old man. "How's the marshal, Doc?"

Thinking he had been alone, Doc wiped the tears from his face on his sleeve, before looking down at Pheeters. "He's gonna be just fine, Louie. Just fine..."

"Doc?"

"Yeah?"

"Are ya stayin' in Dodge now?"

He didn't answer immediately, and then felt her hand on his shoulder.

"He's stayin' Louie. Believe me, he's stayin'..."

Smiling for the first time in days, Louie Pheeters said, "I think that calls for a drink at the Longbranch. Whaddya say Miss Kitty? Doc?"

"We'll be along in a few minutes, Louie," Doc answered. He turned to her, his features soft with emotion. "Now just who do you think you are, answerin' a question like that fer me?"

Her lips curled into a smile. "Well, even though I heard you were two-timin' me, I think it'll be me who's gonna support ya in your old age, in that rockin' chair you're always talkin' about." His eyes rushed with moisture, and she brushed it away. "It wasn't the same ol' Dodge without you, Doc." She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him softly on the lips. "Now come on, handsome, if we don't get down there, Louie'll drink up all the whiskey in town!"

"I could use a good drink of whiskey."

"Oh no you don't. _Louie and I_ are havin' the whiskey. _You're_ havin' a glass of milk!"

She moved quickly down the stairs, and he chased after her. "Hey! Don't you go tellin' me what I can and cannot have. Yer just as bad as that deputy marshal asleep in my office! None of you are gonna prescribe to me...bunch of unruly children is what ya are..."

Dr. Collins smiled as he watched Doc Adams trying to catch up to Kitty, chastising her all the way to the Longbranch. He stepped up onto the stage, gripping only his black medical bag in his hand.

"Going out West, doctor?"

"Not sure yet, driver, but I hear there's a need for doctors in those parts..."

"That there is, sir, that there is!"

Goodbyes had never been a part of his make-up, and he hoped someday they'd forgive him; yet as the Denver stage pulled out of the one-horse town called Dodge, Dr. Hannibal Collins smiled. It was an unsophisticated dustbowl filled with sodbusters, drunken cowboys and illiterates: but he had been forever changed by the people he had known there.

The End


End file.
